Kras City Champions: A New Era
by SkyLarkTurner
Summary: Drugs, speeders, & gambling. The nightlife of Kras City heats up when Razer and Erol join forces with a mysterious crime boss to end Jak's life in a 2nd season of combat racing. RazErol. R&R. Chap16 up Finally!
1. Old Faces, New Twists

**Kras City Champions: A New Era**

**By:** Sky Lark Turner

**Rated:** M- For Language, Slashing and other lovely developments

**Summary:** Jak and crew are back for another season of Kras City combat racing! But this year it's Razer who is causing an uproar. With him and the heartless Erol making a pact to do Jak in, who will survive this year when a new sport brings a mysterious Icelander to the streets of Kras and the tracks.

**Genre:** Adventure, Romance, Slash

**Disclaimer:** I'll ask Daxter to do this part for me…

Dax: All right all you adrenaline junkies and -shudder- slash fans, this here chick owns absolutely nothing, got that? Nothing! of the Jak and Daxter series. We all belong to those Naughty Dog geeks who are just kewl enough to create such an awesome game. Got it?

Me: -pst- What about my OC?

Dax: Ah well… You can have that chick… Tess will get mad at me if I bring another OC gal home with me…

Me: Sweet! Now… Let's get on to the main attraction… Razer!

Dax: What! Stupid slash-girl with your accented men… How can you not like me!

Me: Can I get on with this yet?

Dax: So long as I get the last word….

Me: Yeah?

Dax: SLASHER!

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**Chapter 1: Old Faces, New Twists**

"Welcome race fans!" The image of a feathered multicolored moncaw flashed across millions of television screens from the Wasteland to Icelands and every city in between. "I'm your host, Pecker, and I'd like to welcome everybody back to another exciting season of combat racing!" The abnormal bird let out a loud squawk. "This year we have plenty of familiar, returning faces, including last year's Champion, Jak!" The lens widened to include the young champion, yellow and green buzz cut hidden beneath driving goggles. His standard racing outfit of blue and tan was dulled by the bright orange of the furry Ottsel on his shoulder. "So Jak," said Pecker, "Anything you'd like to say to your fans?"

"Yeah!" The orange Ottsel cried. "We got something to say. Orange Lightning Daxter and his partner Jak are ready to rip up this town!"

"I was talking to Jak!" Pecker shot at Daxter. "I didn't ask you, mangy fur ball!"

"What did you call me, egg boy?" Daxter hunched on Jak's shoulder to pounce on the flapping host.

"Easy, Dax," Jak's gruff voice stayed his friend on his perch before turning to the camera. "We're ready for anything this year, and out team's gonna win it…"

"Thank you, Jak… Squawk!" Pecker flapped past Jak to a young business woman in an olive skirt and blouse. Her dark blue hair was pinned back from her tanned skin in an elaborate bun. "And now, I'd like to introduce to you all my lovely, new co-host, Rayn."

"Thank you, Pecker," Rayn spoke in her brisk formal voice. "Along with last year's champion, we have returning this year the past Kras City racing champion, Razer. Any words to the folks at home?"

A broad shouldered gentleman took the slot nest to Rayn. His raven black hair slicked back from a pale chiseled face and emerald eyes. Red racing coat with blue collar and cuffs contrasted with his powder blue undershirt and yellow gloves. "But of course, Rayn," his thick Northern accent rolled off his tongue; green eyes narrowing in a quick scowl as he said Rayn's name aloud. "Last year was quite an upset in the sport, but this year, the other racers and myself plan to return it to the rightful balance of sorts." Razer's thin lips curled at the corners in his classic smirk.

Just then the pixel screen shut off as Jak set the remote down onto the low table before the couch. "Let's just see him try…" Jak growled and wrapped his arms around a blue-green haired girl, who was sitting beside him.

"Don't worry Jak," the girl laid a reassuring hand on his chest. "This nobody will stop you with me as your mechanic!" The girl remarked full of pride with a peck a peck on Jak's cheek.

"I know…" Jak turned to look at the girl; her eyes were sparkling green against her powdery skin. Suspenders slung over her shoulders and cut top, which showed an ample amount of cleavage and midriff to Jak's likes, and held oversized cargo pants from the curve of her hips. Smiling, Jak leaned in to kiss her, curling his arm to pull her ontop of him as he lay down across the couch. "Marry me, Keira…" Jak requested softly, looking straight into her playful eyes.

"What?" Keira sat up on top of Jak. Her legs straddled his groin and hands propped on his chest as she looked at him in shock for a moment, jaw hanging.

She saw a small smug look come across Jak's face as he folded his hands behind his head. "Please?" He continued.

"Well," Keira thought about the proposition of marriage. It had been less than a year ago, after Jak had won the Kras City championship that they had finally made their relationship official. Since then, they both enjoyed returning back to Haven City as a full fledged couple. However, her father Samos the Green Sage, was still getting used to the fact, which took him by surprise whenever he caught them together. "Why don't we make it through this season and then we'll see…" She smiled hopefully.

Jak's blue eyes dimmed from the brush-off and instead turned to staring at her exposed stomach. He slide his hands up Keira's thighs to her behind, squeezing gently causing her to inch farther up his body. A smirk forming on his lips as Keira giggled softly, he continued up her body, working his way up her sides. Eyes gained a hungry glint as he traced his fingers from the flat of her abdomen up under her shirt to cup her breasts in his hands, rubbing his palms over her smooth skin.

"Jak!" Keira gasped and giggled again. She still could not resist the urge to laugh; she was ticklish to his touch. She smiled and lowered herself down onto him again as their lips parted to wrap their tongues together, slowly, intimately. Keira's arms moved to enclose him to her, feeling Jak's body relax beneath her. He gave a small groan as their legs intertwined.

"Yeah Jak!" a loud grating cheer broke the sounds of the couples breath. "Whoot! Way to get some buddy!" Keira and Jak split instantly to see the fuzzy form of Daxter bouncing on the shoulder of a tall, brawny Wastelander decked in tan and fur that appeared white next to his sun-baked skin.

"Whoops," the man chuckled in a deep, hearty voice; green eye flashing as the other was covered beneath an imbedded lens. "Sorry about that, cherries. Next time I'll remember to knock first!" The Wastelander slung his huge Peacemaker blaster from his back to set it in a corner behind the trophy cases.

"It's okay, Sig," Jak stood up, looking a little less than pleased to see his long time friend and ally. Nonetheless, he still wrapped his arm around Keira's waist as she gathered herself together. "Where's Ashelin and Torn?" Jak asked as Daxter hopped on over to the back of the couch, sitting on the ledge with the sunken seats met the floor and railing.

"Eh, they're probably doing some body work," Daxter commented off-handedly, hitching up his Ottsel sized pants in as masculine a fashion as his small otter-like body could muster. "Right Jak? A little tune up before the first race of the season?" Daxter prodded, snickering.

"Well don't go looking too far," a casual feminine voice stated as the figure of Rayn walked through the door. Behind her a tattooed pair in black and red combat suits followed. The woman was a buxom red head with an attitude to match her siren physique, which could have been none other than Ashelin. While her partner, Torn was of a scrawny built which had been filled by the bulkiness of muscles, giving him a hunched appearance if he did not stand fully straight. Along with a steely expression, the man appeared ready to attack at anytime beneath his stony shell of discontent. "I wanted to talk to you all before the race started." Rayn declared.

"What's up Rayn?" Keira asked, recovering from the interruption earlier.

"Well, I wanted first to thank you for coming back this year; it really means a lot to me. But I must warn you. Now that Mizo is gone, I'm afraid I have no control over the drivers."

"I thought we settled this when Jak blew up Mizo last year…" the sultry voice of Ashelin stated.

"Yes, and even though the bosses of Kras City accepted the takeover," Rayn continued in dismay. "Razer and the other refused to race for us. There's no way we can control what goes on now on the track."

"Nobody can control the track…" Jak stated darkly, images of burning wreckages of metal and exploding cars passed through his mind. It did not surprise him that Razer had taken Mizo's place as the leader of the Kras City racers; he was the forerunner of all the drivers.

"True, but that's not all you need to watch out for. This year we've opened up the competition to racers from all over. We have a new driver from the Icelands and another from Haven City. They say he's the champion speeder driver, probably came here for the street racing as well…"

"Street racing?" Jak asked, distracted from his thoughts of speeder racing back in Haven City; somebody must have beaten his record.

"Seems speeder races have become very popular in the night life, they're even harder to control than the combat racers… Most of them are kids who can't afford to go into combat racing, so they race speeders for some quick cash." Rayn said with disappointment. She wondered if her deceased rival had had this many problems with the business.

"Yeah, but what's this flyboy's name?" Sig interrupted, getting back to the point of the conversation.

"His name is Erol," Rayn remarked without hesitation.

"Erol!?!" Daxter screamed as everyone's face dropped. "He's supposed to be dead! Blown up! Deceased! Dust in the wind! Jak killed the bastard twice!" Daxter was bouncing up and down in exasperation, making up for Jak's gaping jaw and his stunned look. "It's impossible! Impossible!" His little chest was gasping as he tired to catch his breath.

"That man's like a cockroach…" Torn said in his naturally foreboding tone, "Every time you think you've killed him, he just finds another crack to crawl out of…"

"Well this time," Jak remarked looking as menacing as ever, "I'm gonna make sure he stays dead…"

"Ha, good luck," Ashelin scoffed.

"Yeah, but this time it's all of us on the track and just one of him…" Sig contradicted in his up-beat, determined nature.

"Let's just hope he doesn't think to organize with Razer," Rayn said downhearted from what the others where saying about this Erol fellow.

"What about the other racer? Does Erol have any connection with him?" Keira asked, remembering Rayn mentioned something along those lines earlier.

"She," Rayn shuffled amongst her notebook of papers she carried with her at all times. "I know she's from the South, so I don't think there's anyway Erol would know her, or Razer for that matter. Yes," Rayn held up a profile from the stack, "Sheila Owen is the new wildcard for this season."

"Eh, she doesn't sound too tough." Daxter waved his paw through the air to show he was unconcerned. "Me and Jak will have nooo problem takin' down a girl!"

"Oh really?" Keira asked in a sly manner, and Daxter was suddenly facing two perturbed women who were twice his height.

"Now, now ladies," Daxter backed away from the advancing females, an awkward grin of futile cuteness spreading across his whiskers in fear. "I think we can all agree that you two are the exceptions," he chuckled anxiously, "Right? Girls?... WAAAAAAHHHHH!"

All of the spectators of the room gave a unanimous wince as Ashelin and Keira dove on the furry Ottsel. From outside, a horn blew signaling the approaching start of the first Red Eco Cup race. With a pitying glance to the two ladies and a hair ball, the others quietly made the excuses of tune-ups and other preparations to escape the massacre.

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**A Note from Yours Truly: **Yes, Yes, I know... Everyone's thinking it so I'm saying it... EROL'S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD! And even if he's not he's still a messed up cyborg... Well I'm throwing all that out the window folks... I think you'll agree with me when we like the WHOLE Erol to be in these fics. And as for this Sheila chick, don't worry... I'll try to work her in slowly so as not to scare people off... Oh yes, Forgive me in advance if the characters are not quite cannon..._**I'm doing my best people! Have mercy and Review!**_


	2. A Happy Reunion

**Sorry about that folks... I finally noticed I put up Chap 1 twice! bad self **

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Jak series**  
**

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**Chapter 2: A Happy Reunion**

Down in the garage, the racers were putting the finishing touches on their Class 1 vehicles. Razer was lounging in the sear of his red and black Howler 99, dangling his brown boots over the ribbed side. The usual cigarette placed between his fingers every now and then touching his lips for a long drag, which in turn cam out as a puff of smoke. He was attempting to make the perfect smoke ring, and used a headlight on the roll cage as a target for his practice. He had nothing better to do with his time.

On either side of him, Razer could hear the oaths rising from his subordinates, Edje and Shiv. Along with a few others of the drivers that once worked for Mizo, Shiv and Edje had turned to Razer after the untimely end of their boss. Shiv was the most noticeable, with severed ears and a flame tattoo over his left eye. Edje appeared to be whole, save for the inked flames that reached from wrist to elbow, a mark of Mizo's reign in the sport. Across the garage, Razer could hear the muffled grunts of Cutter, a muzzled man who also joined in Razer's uprising. A smile spread over the Northerner's mouth as he blew another ring; this year it would be nothing but him and the track. With no Mizo to send him on any fool's errand, Razer was free to play out his every whim, knowing well he had plenty of finesse and muscle in this town to get whatever he pleased. Yes, this season would be a good season indeed.

Razer straightened in his seat, sliding back so he could see over the controls of his racer to the rest to the garage. Below, he noticed an orange haired racer strutting across the front of his lift in a yellow and black racing suit. He was quite smaller that any of the other drivers, but he all but made up for it by a rigid frame of muscles that were barely visible under his rubber and padding. Razer smirked villainously; he prided himself in the ability to size up any opponent for their potential. This fellow, however, was something else.

In one graceful motion, Razer slid himself over the die of his Howler to land softly on his toes. Rather than approaching his target, Razer took the darkened route behind the other cars, casually dodging puddles of oil and gasoline along with scattered tools. Between the cars, he could see the man level with his long strides. In front of him, Razer saw an amber Road Blade resting on the garage floor. He paused in the shadows next to the streamline car, taking another puff from the glowing cigarette in his dainty yellow fingers.

The yellow clad man appeared in Razer's view. From the close distance, yellow eyes glinted like polished gemstones, cold and hard. The countenance on his face was as solid and immovable as the metal skull mask on his brow. Orderly tattoos of gray covered his entire face, reaching to the very tip of his pointed ears. Razer continued to watch in silence as the man chose a heavy wrench off the tool cart and proceeded to lean over the front of the car, diving to the inner workings of the engine until only the think, orange, spiked tips of his swept back hair showed over the fender line.

Razer saw his opportunity to approach the cat-like man and stepped out of the shadows. He could not help but trace the curve from back to legs and everything in between with his eyes. A knot of appreciation for the man's figure in the skin-tight suit caused his heart to skip a beat. Razer felt his fingers tingle with the urge to caress those lines with even the slightest touch, but a deep breath brought him enough sense not to ruin any chance of a heated reunion turning into a scorching burn. The opportunity to reach out gone, Razer moved up the yellow suit, taking in every stretched sinew and allowing his itching fingers to run along cold steel instead of warm rubber. A sigh behind his closed lips placed him on his elbows at the rim of the engine; head cradled in the palm of his hand, which still held the dwindling cigarette. "I was wondering when you would come back to me, Erol…" Razer cooed in a charming, dreamlike state.

The sounds of work beneath the engine ceased at Razer's words. Erol slowly, cautiously withdrew his head and arms from the inside of the vehicle. Emotionless face did not looking at the speaker until the last moment when he little by little turned to Razer; yellow eyes narrowing in threat. "You really think I came all this way just for you, Razer?" Erol sneered in the aggressive tone that Razer loved to hear.

"Well," Razer began; thick accent rolling the words off his tongue. "I might not be the only one…" He trailed off, thinking, hoping rather he was one of the higher priorities on Erol's list. He knew, though, Erol would never admit to such an idea.

"For your information," Erol straightened to his full height of about four inches shorter than Razer, making up for the distance with the daggers in his gaze, which had been sharpened from a lifetime of being looked down to. He was quite formidable, even dangerous, and he made sure to make the fact well known. "I have a score to settle. Believe it or not, it's hard for any of the Krimson Guard to find any livelihood out of the service, let alone an ex-commander…" Erol stalked back to his tool cart, tossing the wrench onto it with a heavy thud. "I've already taken back my title as Haven City's champion speeder racer." He continued in a triumphant declaration. "Now it's time to take this city's championship, and perhaps an unofficial claim as the top speeder driver in this Hell-hole…" A disgusted glower was over Erol's face, contorting as he gazed across the dark, dirty garage that was bustling with pre-race activity.

Razer's smirk soured at Erol's ambitions, but then again Erol was racing alongside Razer in this competition. He recalled how Erol had gotten his start in speeder racing, despite their mellowness compared to combat racing. Since then, an underworld of speeder racers had formed in Kras City, a scene Razer avoided, considering the sport weak in having small, fast speeders and no weapons. "Such a shame," Razer came up behind Erol, placing a yellow gloved hand on the tool cart to block Erol's path. "You'll have to go through me to get it, because the Kras City championship is mine…" He flicked away the forgotten cigarette and set his other hand on the vacant side of Erol, flattening the ex-commander against the tool crate.

"I already know that won't be very difficult," Erol hissed, undaunted by Razer's closeness. His breath, rather, came in deep smoldering inhales at the surprised urge to attack his fellow driver. A fact that showed clearly in his twisted face and burning gold eyes as he steadily stared into Razer's pools of deep, ocean green. "This time," he huffed, "I'm here for Jak."

Razer's lucid expression vanished into one of shock. He instinctively released his hold of the tool cart and took a step back in confusion. It was obvious Erol had some sort of grudge against this Jak, closer to death sentence by the look on his face, but Razer was having trouble connecting the title-stealing driver to the commander. "Jak? The Kras City champion Jak? My Jak?" Razer gestured with a yellow glove to himself and his scarlet racing coat. He was completely bewildered by the situation, and did not realize how he had added "my" into his questions.

"Him and his little rat of a friend!" Erol lashed out, clutching his fists in rage of the memory. He was too consumed by fury to notice Razer's awkward question. "Twice those two ruined my plans! Twice they tried to do me in! They won't succeed a third time! I will kill him if it's the last thing I do!

The haze of confusion cleared from Razer's mind, revealing a most devious plot. His heavy brows furrowed in contemplation, and a twisted smirk played across his lips. "I do believe," Razer raised his covered hands to join his fingertips in scheming, adding to his persona, "That I can help you with your problem…"

Erol met Razer's gaze with suspicion at first, thinking of what Razer could possibly achiever through Jak's death. Then he realized the death of Jak would have to mean a compromise on his part, giving up the title of champion to Razer in return for his revenge on the havoc-reeking duo. The offer was fair enough for Erol's purpose, knowing Razer would still be a powerful ally, and, of course, there would always be next season to prove who the real champion of combat racing was. "Deal," Erol extended a black racing glove and the pair shook on their agreement.

Satisfied that his reunion with Erol went far better than he expected, Razer sauntered, a little more than any normal man would, out of the dim back of the garage into the dusty lit lane that cut the garage in half. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he noticed Erol's eyes flick up to his from somewhere below Razer's waistline, narrow in defense and then return to working on his Road Blade. To this, Razer flashed a thin creasing smile over his mouth and chuckled to himself, continuing down the lane back to his Howler 99. In front of him, he saw a glimpse of neon yellow and orange. "Oh Jak," Razer called as he drew closer to the figure of the racing champion and his pet ferret.

Jak stopped dead in his tracks, more from annoyance than any other reason. Tilting his head on his empty shoulder in frustration, Jak turned around to see a familiar red coat approaching. "What do you want Razer?"

"Yeah, we got championships to win," Daxter fired off from Jak's shoulder in his typical sass. "Make it snappy, powder puff."

Razer glared ice daggers at Daxter as he closed the gap. "I just wanted to wish you the bust of luck this season," Razer said out of good sportsmanship, even though he meant the complete opposite. "And to watch your tailpipes, because I'll be on them…"

"Looking forward to it," Jak sneered back, "That's where you belong, behind me." He glared at the Northerner as Razer returned back to his car for the start of the race.

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**Author's Note: **Ok.. everything is now how it should be... Chapter 3 is up... Please be merciful and send some reviews! 


	3. The Rookie

**Chapter 2 is fixed! Sorry about the mistake!**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of the Jak and Daxter Series… Now on with the show!

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**Chapter 3: The Rookie**

Thethick haze of morning mist and smog hung over the Loading Dock track. The racers took their places along the starting line in their Class 1 vehicles. The usual assortment of media cameras floated in and out amongst the cars, catching possibly the final moments of some of the drivers. However, many of the seasoned veterans were not as concerned within the welded steel cages of their machines; some even taking a moment to smile for the floating recorders as the starting banner showed a neutral blue.

Razer sat casually in his Howler 99, feeling the vibrations running from the engine up his arms, legs and spine. At that moment, he knew nothing but the sound of the motor's purr and the thick, sharp smell of the ocean mingled with exhaust. Filling his lungs with the deepest inhale he could, Razer gave a long sigh, opening his eyes to the morning rays glowing in the blue-gray sky.

Out of the corner of eye, Razer caught the sight of a cobalt and ice blue Dragonfly. The small buggy sat a bit higher with its suspension, but the appearance of the type of car was always some what laughable. The rounded, compact structure was anything but intimidating compared to the sharper and longer vehicles. Razer chuckled to himself, knowing this driver was bound to be on of the first to go. He craned his neck a little farther to get a glimpse at the driver, expecting some kind of punk teenager who was having delusions of grandeur. However, what he did see surprised him. A woman, clad in a black, riveted racing coat, sat behind the wheel. Glittering sapphires for eyes, her gaze was fixed on the track ahead of her; a white face of marble showed absolutely no hint of anxiety or apprehension. Pitch black hair was pulled up into a row of three thick pony tails down the center of her head; their length was hard to tell as the cascade of black ran down her shoulder and blended into her jacket. Spiked gauntlets were cut off at the fingertips to show long, thin fingers with black painted nails filed to sharp points. This had to be the new driver, Sheila Owens, from the Icelands.

Razer's good mood vanished and he tightened his grip on the wheel. This was not the time to be sizing up the competition; then again, Icelandic girls never were overly robust, in fact some even looked like young men. Razer shook off the thought until after the race though; right now he needed his focus to be on the steady blue starting banner.

In Razer's rearview mirror, Erol's yellow Road Blade slithered into its place. The long low racecar hugged the steel and asphalt of the dock track. His skull-shaped faceplate protected his feature from any shrapnel that was sure to fly during the race. The red lenses turned the world around him hues of blood. The yellow cat eyes behind them, however, were fixed not on the purpled start, but on a huge, rumbling green Basher.

Jak checked all the controls of his monstrous vehicle; a habit he had gained from the past season. Once he was sure that every system was functioning as it should, yellow, green, red, blue and dark eco, he tilted his head his head to Daxter perched on the side of the roll cage. "Time to go Dax," Jak said; he always let Daxter ride with him during races.

"Wha? Oh yeah," Daxter seemed preoccupied by something, and did not jump off his bar with the usual bounce. "Hey Jak? Be careful buddy…" The ottsel rubbed at a scuff on the steel with a furry paw.

"Don't worry, Dax," Jak gave a reassuring grin and patted Daxter on the head. "It's just like old times…" He realized Daxter was still intimidated by Erol's return. He had to admit the commander was becoming a haunting ghost to his past and present. "Third times the charm?" He nudged hopefully; he never liked seeing Daxter quiet.

"Ha!" Daxter laughed as if Erol was already dead; his spunk was back in full swing. "You're right! Now get out there and blow some shit up!"

Jak watched Daxter spring to the top of the vehicle, giving the side panel a good luck slap with his tail. Feeling relieved, Jak turned back as the banner turned red for the countdown.

"Three," Pecker's voice came over the announcer's microphone. "Two… One! They're off!"

Engines revved in a simultaneous roll of thunder. Tires squealed on asphalt as brakes shifted into high gear, leaving a smoking trail of rubber behind. Immediately, the battle began as paint traded in grinding slams against the nearest racer, each car trying to gain the upper hand. The pack separated as the lucky few picked up blue eco turbos and sped out ahead. Missiles and shots rang through the air as yellow eco weapons engaged. The slower racers were soon gone as red eco land mines exploded beneath their bumpers while the others continued on through the turbo jumps and cargo cranes. By the second and final lap, the field was narrowed done to six; four of whom were locked in the battle for first place while the other two struggled to catch up.

Razer was gritting his teeth was he smashed the side of his Howler 99 against Sheila's Dragonfly. He was attempting to claim second place from thee girl as Jak was slowly edging away from them. Ahead, he knew the freight train lanes were approaching and if he could keep her along side just long enough the rookie would have now place to go but headlong into the lumbering machines.

He looked to his rearview mirror, seeing Erol on the back corner of his bumper looking to pass them both on the outside. Another bang to Sheila and a quick glance across, her eyes were fixed on the approaching train dead ahead, but her wheel steadily forced the car further against Razer's. Razer smirked at his plan and broke away from the greenhorn at the last second, taking the safe route between the track barrier and the train and cutting off Erol's advance in the process. He cast a glance back to see Erol curling over the wheel in fury. Now all he needed to do was catch Jak.

Past the freight trains, Jak suddenly was aware of a blue light gaining on him. Expecting Erol or Razer, Jak was shocked to see an unknown blue car gaining fast on his tail and pelting him with gun fire. The new girl must be pretty tough to last this long, Jak thought as he entered into the curving home stretch. Lining her car behind his, Jak decided round damage was worth the risk to get rid of the competition and dropped a landmine. A satisfying explosion sounded as Jak sped up his smoldering Basher, seeing two more blue lights approaching out of the cloud.

Erol was pressing the turbo engage so hard his thumb throbbed, but he was still gaining ground on both Razer, and more importantly Jak. He chanced a fleeting look at his weapons panel and saw he had two missiles left. Setting his jaw, he fired one after the other, one for Razer and one for Jak afterwards. He did not plan on Razer to drop a countermine, and he cursed the Northerner as one missile exploded in air while the other struck the Howler's back bumper in a fiery blast.

"Dammit!" Razer swore as he watched Jak soar over the finish line and Erol sweep past him. The blast had spun him into a dune bank just before the final jump. Wrenching the car into gear, he hesitated as the roar of a smoking Dragonfly shot past using all of its turbo to propel it forward. Razer panicked; there was no way a woman was going to cheat him out of a medal and put the hammer down on all thrusters.

The act was not enough though, and Razer crossed over the finish line a split second behind Sheila. Infuriated, he banged on the emergency brake and slid to a stop with the other three cars. He was numb, body rigid. His face contorted as rage bent the corners of his ivory calm and his body shook with enough fury to rip the skull of a Metal Head.

"So Jak," Pecker was at the side of the winner's Basher. "How does it feel to win the first race of a new season?"

"It feels good," Jake said in his gruff tone, looking into the floating camera and then to Pecker. Out of the corner of his eye, Jak noticed Erol sitting in his Road Blade, his mask on his forehead and yellow eyes fixed to him, like a cat's on its prey. "This year is gonna be another tough year…" Jak commented more to himself than the unseen audience.

"Let's see if we can get an interview with our bronze medalist, Sheila Owens," Pecker whispered to the camera and flapped his way over to the black clothed woman, who was bending down to inspect the damage from Jak's landmine. "Sheila!" Pecker called as the Icelander straightened. "What's it like to be the rookie medalist?"

"No comment," was the reply from the dark, alluring voice that belonged to Sheila Owens. Like the few other women drivers, she had the talent for an icy brush-off, which stopped many male fans cold in their tracks wondering what was wrong. Her voice was so firm that Pecker stopped in mid-flap only to see the woman climb back into her Dragonfly and drive off. "Give it time for her heart to thaw-out, guys." Pecker said and shivered, shaking off the chill. "I never knew Icelanders were so cold! Squawk!"

The passing blue and the rumble of the final two racers, Cutter and Torn this time, broke Erol's cold trance. Glancing around, he saw the red, yellow and blue moncaw fluttering toward the new arrivals trailed by the camera and Razer resting a ways off, staring into thin air. Slightly annoyed by this picture of sullenness from his partner in crime, Erol hoisted his thin self out of the Road Blade and strutted over to the red and black Howler. "Do try not to cry over your loss…" Erol prodded in his taunting fashion for displays of weakness, which he saw in Razer's cracked tranquility. "After all, it was to me…" He sneered, baring a snarling smile of triumph.

Razer shifted his head to look at Erol. All traces of rage vanished and he now appeared completely devoid of emotion or thought. "Please," Razer reemerged into his normal arrogant, self-absorbed manner. "Do not flatter yourself thinking I was going to cry over you. I only realized I have another pest to eliminate now…" Razer removed the emergency break and threw another glance at Erol.

"We shall see about that…" Erol stated, watching Razer pull off in the direction of the garage. Whether he was speaking of Razer crying or the girl, even he was not sure. With one final glare at Jak, who was now surrounded by his posse, Erol strutted back to his Road Blade to follow Razer.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, guys," Jak said darkly. He had been watching as Erol had jumped out of his car to speak to Razer and then observed them both drive off. He ignored most of the praise that Keira, Sig and Daxter were showering upon him; though he did smile faintly as an exhausted Torn joined them alongside Ashelin, making them a matching pair of ex-Krimzon guards. Jak was more concerned of what his two most prominent rivals were really talking about.

"Hey man," Sig rested a huge hand on Jak's shoulder as gesture of comrades. "Let me buy you a drink at the Bloody Hook. Don't get your circuits in a bundle over those two jerk-offs," he thumbed over his shoulder to where the two vehicles had been parked. "We got all season to get rid of those suckers." Sig smiled. It was hard not to love his good nature within his intimidating exterior of Metal Head armor; he kind of reminded Jak of an over-grown Teddy-Lurker, except tan instead of purple.

"I'd rather cut the head off the snake before it comes back to bite me…" Jak mumbled and allowed himself to be ushered off the track by the others.

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**Authors Note:** Dun dun dun... Looks like we got trouble on the horizon but first we have to survive the night. **Please Review and tell me what you think! **Daxter: And where am I in all this? Me: Hey, you have your moments... Must remember... Razer is the main attraction here... Daxter: Sure... 


	4. The Bloody Hook

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anybody… Save my OC…

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**Chapter 4: The Bloody Hook**

Razer blew out a cloud of thick smoke, adding to the permanent fog that hung in the Bloody Hook. He was resting quietly at the bar, a drink in one hand and a fresh lit cigarette in the other. His pensive face watched the small but deadly lurker-sharks swim around the giant aquarium, which also served as the only window in the dusty establishment. Remnants of daylight filtered through the fish tank, giving a murky glow to the room, shading its vast corners in darkness. The time was still too early for most of the bar's patrons, having only a few other souls besides Razer filling the dilapidated seats, and awaited the night when all manner of drunken brawls and fights tore the place apart. Razer wondered how the owner ever managed to keep this dump open.

A low creak of the door announced another customer, and Razer shifted to see the tall, black form of Sheila Owens stride through the entry. Her studded black racing coat reached down to her ankles, which in turn were bound in think, leather combat boots. Black racing pants blended seamlessly below the knee into the buckles on her shins from the boots. Unlike other women, Sheila did not even flaunt what she had; the only hint at her femininity was the hour glass contour of her jacket and her thigh length hair pulled into a mock Mohawk of three horsetails. The most skin she exposed was her porcelain doll face and her black painted fingertips. She shed a searching look across the room before pacing to an empty, secluded booth towards the far side of the room. Her boots thudded confidently over the floor, daring any of the surrounding men to approach her.

Razer shook his head. He had no interest in the woman who had stolen his medal; in fact her presence annoyed him to the extent that he took an exceeding long drag of the cigarette to distract him. He held the smoke within his lungs, letting the heat sear his chest from the inside out. When he finally exhaled, the smoke poured from both his nostrils like a perturbed dragon. Besides, Razer had other reasons to remain at his post on the bar stool; ones far better than pestering a mere girl.

The door opened once again; this time to a boisterous group of familiar voices. Razer did not even have to look to know that Jak had entered with his annoying rat Daxter yapping away on his shoulder. Another pair of boots and Torn's low growl followed by a deep chuckled, Sig. Behind them, two girl voices chatted softly, Keira and Ashelin. Looks like the gang was all here; Razer grated his teeth and sunk farther into his drink. The last thing he wanted was those buffoons hanging anywhere near him.

"Seriously, Jak!" Daxter exclaimed as the party took up shop around the largest of the Bloody Hook's tables, pulling chairs from elsewhere at their leisure. "You really need to lighten up, buddy! It's not good for your complexion!" Daxter hopped onto the table top as Jak took a seat next to Keira.

"He has a point, Jak," Keira commented. She was genuinely worried about his glum mood and it showed all over her youthful face. "You should be celebrating."

"Yeah," Torn growled between Sig and Ashelin as he propped an elbow on the back of his chair. "Your lousy mood's bringing us all down…" His eyes narrowed as his way of showing concern.

"Look who's talking, Mr. Sunshine!" Daxter fired back, knowing as well as everyone else Torn was not known for his happy disposition.

"But honestly Jak," Sig cut in as Torn was about to wring Daxter's neck, putting an arm out to stop him. Keeping the peace was what Sig did best; that and killing Metal Heads. "Can't you act even a little happy for yourself?"

Jak sighed. Sig, as usual, had a good point. He was ruining the victory for the entire team. "You're right guys," Jak muscled a smile and lifted his arm to place it around Keira's shoulder. "We should be celebrating," he said in his building confidence, "Drinks are on me tonight!" Jak declared and was met with simultaneous cheers of applause.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Daxter shouted approval from Jak's shoulder. "Bartender! Drinks all around!"

Razer was practically falling into his third drink of the night. Just listening to their conversation was enough to form a lump of disgust in his throat and twist a knot of loathing in his chest. He had kept a tally of everyone that had come in after Jak and his glee-club, counting Cutter, Edje and Shiv, all of whom he ignored, and about eight other drivers and mechanics all discussing the day's race. Razer was about ready to just get up and walk out that very instant; his Howler waited for him in the back alley and his renovated flat beyond.

It was in the moment of Razer's desperation that the door creaked open one final time and the din of the now filled bar became just a few decibels quieter. Razer turned his head, which was now cradled in his arms over an empty glass; his cigarettes long forsaken. Green eyes sharpened as his senses pricked back to full vigor, locking onto the one person he had been longing to walk through the door of the Bloody Hook: Erol. Razer's devious smirk returned to his lips.

Erol's amber eyes scanned the room, passing over all the occupied tables. Seeing an open booth in the back of the room, Erol stalked past Razer at the crowded bar and made his way towards his target. All he wanted at that moment was a dark, quiet hole where he could think and plan his next move.

"Erol," Razer saw Sheila emerge from her place in the shadows and approach the ex-commander. She was perhaps two inches taller than Erol by Razer's judgment. "Tonight, two a.m., Kras City circuit…" She spoke just inches away from Erol's ear; a distance that made Razer's eyes narrow in resentment. Then, like a siren's shadow, she vanished out the door, leaving Erol to take up his booth in the back of the room.

Over his shoulder, Razer watched Erol slide into the shadows of the booth against the far wall, amber eyes shining like a cat in the night. Razer's emerald gaze lingered on the fold, taking in the color of Erol's orange hair out of the corner of his eye. He straightened on his stool and motioned to the bartender to place another drink before him; everything went onto his tab anyway. With a new glass in hand, Razer rose from his seat gracefully, being careful not to draw attention to himself and his motives. He strode casually toward the back of the barroom; a small smirk upturned the corners of his lips. Now that Erol was finally within his reach, nothing could ruin his plans. "Making midnight plans without me, Erol?" Razer asked in playful banter, leaning against the back wall and casting his partner in crime further into shadow.

"Everyone needs a night life," Erol snarled, emerging from his hole. He realized that he would not be able to get rid of Razer with his normal chill. There was something about his persistent and unfaltering certainty kept Erol from treating him like any other enemy. He wanted to break that self-assuredness, see him fall. It was this desire which brought Erol to his feet before the Northerner and rooted him to the spot as he glared up at Razer in defiance.

"So they do…" A predatory instinct grew behind Razer's countenance. He took a half step forward, extending out a leg to enclose Erol between him and the booth wall. They were already in the most secluded part of the bar thanks to Erol's anti-social habits; so Razer had no fear of prying eyes. The only thing he comprehended was the strong-willed commander staring into his eyes just inches away from his body. In a slow, steady motion, Razer placed his half empty glass on the table, which only backed his prey to the wall. "Stay with me tonight…" Razer commanded voice as soft as silk. He already knew Erol's answer.

"Never," Erol hissed. His face contorted into a snarl of loathing disgust. There was no way he would consent to such a request; not even Mar himself could persuade him to move of his own free will from his place. In fact, he anticipated to fight Razer. No, he longed for it. He was tired of Razer's all talk and no action.

"If you're certain," Razer smiled hungrily and just as Erol was about to snap back a reply, he made his move. Lunging forward, Razer slammed Erol against the wall, throwing his arm around the man's waist as his body pressed against Erol's. Seizing the commander's lips in his own, Razer thrust his tongue inside Erol's mouth, reaching deep for his as Erol braced against him.

Erol dug his fingertips into Razer's collar bone in protest, attempting to force the man off him. His tongue worked against the intruder, taking away his breath in infrequent gasps as he opposed the larger man. His entire body was rigid from resisting. Enough of this, Erol screamed inside his blurred mind and wrenched Razer's tongue from his mouth with an enraged growl. The taste of alcohol lingered on his lips.

"Sure you won't change your mind?" Razer whispered. His heart pounded in his chest making his pulse throb in the seed of his groin. He flattened his chest to the rubber chest plate of Erol's suit as stifled pants pressed back on him. Razer smiled and ran his tongue over Erol's cheek bone, licking to the ridge of his ear as far as he could reach. "For me?" He nibbled at the base of the tattooed ear, pulling gently with his teeth. He sighed and closed his eyes as he drew Erol closer to him.

"No," Erol panted through gritted teeth. His body could not hold much longer against Razer's sheer bulk; he had to rethink his strategy to escape Razer's advances and wait for the Northerner to pull back from him. He suppressed a tremor of pleasure behind repulsion as Razer worked on his ear. He did not have to wait long, though, when Razer separated from his side to look at him. Were his green eyes so entrancing? Erol did not dare to ask or even answer his unspoken question and immediately twisted with all the reserved force of his well-trained body to peg Razer on the wall. He gave a sneer of victory as he braced his legs to the floor, using his arms and chest to keep Razer in his place. His yellow eyes were wide, on fire with the thrill of the confrontation. "You don't scare me, Razer," Erol whispered venomously, it was his turn to talk. "You and your sick delusions."

"Shame," Razer cooed, mocking disappointment. He was enjoying the pressure Erol was apply to his body, the thought of struggling against it never even came across his mind. Such wild passion did Erol contain beneath his steely shell. "I suppose that make you one as well, does it not?" He let the comment sink into the depths of Erol's mind. Razer remember how Erol hated digging up past involvements to dangle over his head; especially when it was a one night stand in their rookie years of racing and the bottom of a bottle was common ground. Since then, Razer liked to believe their relationship had taken on a fuller meaning, a pairing if nothing else. After all, he could not seem to keep himself away from the blazing man even if he tried.

That was the final straw for Erol. He released an arm from Razer's chest and swung, connecting with the side of the racer's face in a swift, accurate strike. His whole body trembled from fury. His knuckles stung; the first of the lesser bruises he would collect that night he was sure of it. Erol watched as Razer returned from his blow to gaze at him, red bruise fading under his white skin. That face, that calm, collected face which hid untold secrets behind it; Erol was determined to break that face, see it scream, see it cry. His body pulsed with animalistic craze.

Razer saw every urge flash beneath Erol's orange locks. They were exactly what he wanted: the rage, the abuse, the zeal, all of it. Not here though, not quite yet. In one act of brute strength, Razer dropped to catch Erol in the stomach, using the commander's opposing force to lay him over his broad shoulder. Locking the twisting man to him with an arm, Razer flung open a hidden backdoor he used more frequently than the main entrance. It was far more convenient with his Howler parked only a few paces away. His heart was practically slamming against the inside of his ribs as he tightened his grip on the lean body of Erol. Razer tossed the struggling man into the only seat of the vehicle and quickly pinned him down by straddling a leg over the commander's lap with a wide shoulder against his chest. "Now behave, or I shall have to drag you beneath my fender, love…" Razer warned with a devilishly playful tone as he dropped the parking brake and sped off into the streets of Kras City.

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**Author's Note:** Razer had kidnapped Erol! This can only mean one thing people! Daxter: The both die in a fiery racer crash? Please? Me: And ruin all my fun? No way! Daxter: I think I'm going to go find Tess... All this is creeping me out, ick… Me: Fine! Be that way! 


	5. The Fast Lane

**Author's Note: **Here we are folk... The long awaited slash of... -drum roll- Razer& Erol! For best results: If you have the song "Animals" by Nickleback, please put it on Repeat for this chapter... You'll understand why...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Razer or Erol -sob

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**Chapter 5: The Fast Lane**

The night air was cool on Razer's face, like a splash of cold water to awaken his heat dulled senses. He kept his eyes on the ever twisting streets and the passing dilapidated buildings that made up most of the structure of Kras. Under him, Razer felt the warm body of Erol writhing ever-so-slightly beneath his weight, and despite the clearing effects of the sea breeze, Razer's entire body was racing faster than his Howler 99 with the actions in the back of the Bloody Hook still fresh in his veins.

Done with his denial of the matter between him and Razer, Erol set forth a new ambition of creating as much anguish for his kidnapper as possible. The pressure of the driver's body bearing down on him was intoxicating, cutting his breath to sharp inhales. Inches above where Razer's legs crossed over his thighs, a throbbing protest grew against his skin tight rubber pants, inciting him even further. His unrestrained arms curled around Razer's waist, sliding the driver farther on top of him and relished the increase of strain on his lap as the wind and city whipped past them. Fingers clawed their way to unclasp Razer's blue coat belt, untucking his blue undershirt from his pants to run his hand up the man's chest.

Razer's foot pressed harder on the accelerator at Erol's cold touch on his rigid stomach, catching his breath in his throat with a pleasured shiver. He could not suppress the low groan that escaped when the shiver passed, while his heartbeat spiked to a new level. An uncontrollable sensation race up his spine as the man dragged his fingernails down his chest. Erol's breath was hot on the back of his neck, face pressing into the nape of his collar. Razer blinked, the building passed in a flashing blur of slow motion as Razer gained the feeling of melting into the commander's grasp. Turn, he jolted back to reality and reached across Erol to the E-brake, yanking it hard and drifting through a hairpin turn. This position was becoming more and more dangerous for the both of them.

Erol chuckled silently to himself as he rubbed his face further into Razer's red coat. His plan was working beautifully; slowly Razer was losing his focus between his advances and the perilous roadways. Erol obviously was not concerned about dying, nor did he care, or fear for his life. Instead, he continued working Razer into him, grinding his pelvis against the man in his lap in slow pressing pushes, and receiving an audible moan as Razer relaxed once more into him. Erol pulled a single hand from Razer's shirt to slither down to his inner thigh, feeling the heat that radiated from the fabric. He lingered on the spot, rubbing gently as he felt Razer grow on his touch becoming more and more entranced by pleasure; hands relaxing on the steering wheel and speedometer steadily rising. In one quick motion, Erol grasped the bulging cloth of Razer's pants, causing Razer to gasp and start in surprise, revving the engine into the danger zone. It was just the reaction he wanted.

In his mind, Razer was already engulfed by the warm rubber of Erol's race suit. His whole body was wrapped in a blanket of heat, veiling the world in a haze as his eyelids became harder to keep open. Erol's hand between his legs was becoming an increasing distraction, sending quivers over his skin. His muscled tightened instinctively as he felt the beads of sweat forming down his back, soaking into his jacket. All of his will power was put forward to release his foot from the accelerator and apply the break to slow the Howler into a familiar back alley, which was cool in the twilight. Shutting off the engine, Razer rounded on Erol to shove him into the corner of the seat. He ripped the hand from his groin and nailed it to the metal roll bar. Out of sheer vengeance, Razer seized the padded cup of Erol's pants, squeezing in hard pulses against the hard rubber, and thrust his tongue into the commander's mouth, making the grown man writhe beneath him as they shared another passionate duel of lips.

Erol broke first, roaring in anguish. His heart was hammering in his chest and the sweat made the rubber slick against his skin. He was snarling up at Razer, teeth bared and itching to bite. Razer was within a breath of his reach when he raised a leg to wrap around the racer's body. Erol's plan faltered as Razer jumped out of the car in a practiced spring and watched as Razer paused on a shadowed doorstep, eyeing Erol who was still in the corner of the seat. Erol could not seem to make his limbs move in the thick plastic, but he could see Razer was as frazzled as him. "Afraid little one?" Erol was just able to hear breathless taunt as the red coat disappeared into the building. Frustrated by his object's escape, Erol broke his stupor and leapt out of the Howler with his catlike grace, sprinting after Razer.

Razer dashed through his flat in wild excitement, shedding his drenched jacket and casting it over the back of a chair as he entered into the main room of his apartment; a breadcrumb for his pursuer. He reached the door across the open space which was his bedroom and paused with his and on the knob. The sound of light footed steps made him turn back to the dim room, lit only by the rays of the full moon that filtered through dirt-streaked windows. Green eyes glinted in the glow of the window, following the shadow of Erol who was approaching him in all his feline grace. He took teasing step back opening the door into the next room. Erol pounced.

The two bodies fell into the moonlit room, wrestling in a series of grappling and biting. Their lips latched with each others and once again they lashed out, fighting for dominance as each attempted to reach farther down the other's throat. Razer's shirt was the first article to be tossed aside in the tussle between the two; both of them grabbing at the other's clothing, seeing who would be the one to lose their clothes first. Erol then turned to Razer's pant belt as the Northerner willingly kicked off his boots and began unzippering the commander's suit. Razer was the first to be completely stripped as Erol's rubber outfit was proving far more difficult than his fabric clothes. In a joint effort of twisting on the hard wood floor, they managed to peel the suit down to Erol's waist, exposing his orderly tattoos of mark. A pause for breath found Razer on all fours, completely exposed and laced with sweat overtop of Erol, who was panting on the warped floor.

Erol took matters into his own hands. He violently shoved Razer off of him to fall with a hard thud on the wood and sprung to his feet. While Razer sprawled over the floor gazing up at him, Erol slid the remainder of the suit over his hips in a natural ease. Eyes never leaving the Northerner's face and body, he watched the man's interest rise in more than just those emerald eyes. He smirked a darkly challenging look at Razer, who was now laying as confidently as a model on the floor in all his glory. The mirroring expression on Razer's face made his pulse flare and his stance tense with the impending attack on him.

Razer felt himself being betrayed without his clothing. He was not ashamed of it; Erol could not hide anymore either. A lusty glint flashed in his smile as he cautiously raised himself to his feet. Before Erol took another moment to escape him, Razer turned the tides and charged the man, slamming them both against the peeling white wall. He moaned as their pelvises met, each rubbing against the other in a swollen ecstasy. Abandoning their duels with tongue, which Razer was certain Erol would bite out his if he tried, he deliberately inserted his finger into his mouth, while the other hand wrapped around the small of Erol's back. He gradually withdrew his finger from his lips, deliberately, ensuring Erol knew exactly what was about to happen; he relished the thought. Sighing a little as he drew himself against the commander once again, Razer reached behind Erol and penetrated the sensitive entry, playing gently with him.

Erol gasped and clenched his entire body against the intrusion of him. He could feel Razer working farther into his body; the foreplay was unbearable as he braced a groping hand against Razer's shoulder. In blind passion, Erol's fist struck the wall. He refused to be the first to lose in this contest. Razer must have seen his frustration, thought, for the next moment Erol felt him withdraw his finger, giving him a chance to breathe again. His feet were being pushed aside and Razer's hand had moved to the back of each of his thighs. One dip of Razer's body and Erol was hoisted off the floor and held only by Razer's body and the wall. In an instant, he felt Razer enter, driving slow and long against Erol's tightened muscled. As he relaxed, Razer quickened his pace going in unison with the commander's contractions, making Erol's back arch against the wall in guilty pleasure.

The Northerner gasped for air. His face was pressed to Erol's chest as he continued to massage the sensitive muscles of his partner. All at once, the two climaxed; Razer in one deep thrust coming within Erol as his chest released a strained moan of thrill. The latter came between their two bodies from the continuous thrusts within paired with the movements the Northerner's abdomen running up and down over him. Razer withdrew gently, finishing as Erol's feet returned to solid ground. They both were soaked with sweat. Razer gazed down at Erol's glistening face as they stood there compressed together, chest pushing in shallow breaths. His mask of confidence was somehow lost in the act as he gazed openly at Erol. In one move of pure compassion, Razer cupped Erol's face in the palm of his hand and affectionately ran his tongue up the side of his cheek in wanting gratitude.

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**Author's Note: **Oh no! Cut off!?! Nay! The continuation is only a chapter away! Right Dax? Dax: -dead from heartattack- **Quick! Review!**


	6. The Commander

**A/N: **And we're back! Did you review the last chapter? was I right about the song or what? Yeah, yeah... Get on with it...

**Disclaim: **Nothing owned**  
**

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**Chapter 6: The Commander**

Erol closed his eyes away from Razer's display of compassion. He still refused to submit to any of the man's emotional desires if not physical; the feat was simple when he was born and bred to be heartless. His true pleasure came from the disheartened features in Razer's expression when he did reopen his amber eyes. It was the Northerner's turn to be on the receiving end of this arrangement, and he expected to make every moment well worth the humiliation he was put through seconds earlier. Out of sheer mental discipline, Erol wiped away a notion of the past events from his face with a revised look of retribution directed solely at the man pinned to him. With one firm push off the wall, Erol forced Razer to take a few steps back, breaking their touch. He took another step; stare never leaving Razer's. They both returned behind their masks of predatory calm. As Erol took another step, Razer backed away once again. Erol saw himself as the wolf before the sheep; an extremely confident ram was more like it. A dark smirk upturned the commander's lips. His pulse rose for a second time that night, but this time he was in total control of the situation.

Razer matched Erol's hungry look with enticed one of his own. He felt the foot of his four poster bed connect with his heel, and stopped. He waited, allowing Erol to close the distance between them as his chest deepened in breaths. Erol was merely inches away from him. He read full well in the commander's face that revenge would mean pain, and plenty of it. Somehow, he was having trouble weighing the price Erol wanted from him. Only to provoke the commander's wrath even farther, his charming smile of self-assuredness spread wide across his glossy face. He wanted to see Erol in full glory, unrestrained.

The commander replied to Razer's charm with a slight tilt of his head and with lightning swiftness, hurled Razer onto the downy comforter. A surge of triumph swelled in his chest when he noted the surprise on the Northerner's face. In all the grace of a stalking cat, Erol stepped up onto the mattress, one foot after the other through such balance that he never even swayed in the depression of the bed. Lowering to creep up the bed on his hands, Erol closed the gap in one pounce. His hands landing square on the Razer's broad chest as he loomed over the racer. "You're mine now," Erol hissed in the man's ear, ripping his nails down Razer's flesh and proceeding to flip him onto his stomach in one wrenching grasp of the Northerner's shoulders.

The sight that met Erol's eyes made him pause for a moment. Blue flames covered the entirety of Razer's back reaching from the back of his shoulders to the small of his back. The commander's eyes flicked to the Northerner's arm; he had not noticed the blue tattoos that crept up from the man's wrist and ended at his elbow. In a gesture of amusement, Erol traced his nails up the curling lines to come down next to Razer's neck, biting the knot of muscles behind his collar bone.

Razer groaned. His mind was clearer after the first bout with Erol, which made the pain of his teeth all the sharper on his flesh. He felt the weight of Erol's chest lower onto his back and hands working there way along the edges of his hips. Razer curled his fingers into the folds of the sheet as a second wave of arousal took over him; he sensed Erol harden as he returned to stroking Razer's sides. The Northerner gave another low moan in approval.

Without warning, Razer was shoved down into the pillows by the commander's palms. He should have realized the tender moment would never have lasted. A fresh and excruciating flash of pain swept through him as Erol thrust into him with so much force the breath was knocked from his chest. He had underestimated the sheer driving force the commander possessed. A mistake that made him cry out in anguish. Razer tried to regain his breath with each withdraw, but air eluded him as another assault on his body shook his entire being. It was difficult for him to even think; he could only submit, eyes rolling back, as throbbing elation rendered him helpless under Erol.

Relentless, the commander was. Erol's forearm bore his weight on Razer's shoulder blades, bruising the blue flames light purple form the power behind his motions. The other was braced to the downy sheets in support, nail digging into the mattress. Eyes closed and back bent from the strain as he thrust with all the vigor in him and pulled back only to return in another jolting shove. His jaw clenched as his whole body trembled against the unyielding stress of muscles, breath coming in shaking inhales. Through the waves of euphoria, Erol only sought to drive harder into Razer, hear him gasp in pain and pleasure.

Razer had given up his resistance and laid defeated upon the blankets as his body was pressed continuously into the dampened sheets. He let his muscles tighten and release to Erol's undaunting pace. All his energy had subsided from his body, leaving only his chest to gasp in shallow pants. A long, low groan escaped his lips as he lost to Erol; the tension released from his pelvis in a flourish of relief. Inside of him, he felt Erol climaxing with a deep and reaching thrust, compressing Razer farther into the pillows.

Erol's body relaxed as he backed off from Razer, finishing with a few deeper, slower pushes. A satisfied sneer showed through the exhaustion on Erol's face. Amber eyes were gazing down at Razer's unmoving body; he had succeeded in breaking the loathed mask of the man before him. With a low sigh of contentment in his success, Erol rolled off Razer to the cool, empty space next to the Northerner, laying flat on his back. His eyes closed to the canopy of the bed as sleep crept over the corners of his mind and limbs.

Beside Erol, Razer stirred once he was freed of the commander's weight. From practiced habit, his pale fingers unwound from the sheets and reached to the nightstand next to the bed. When they found the familiar shapes of his cigarette pack and lighter, the man heaved himself onto his back. Erol did make him pay for his earlier pleasures; he ached far worse than any of the longest races he had ever driven. Razer propped himself upon the multitudes of pillows against the headboard with a grimace. Thank Mar Erol's eyes were closed. A comforted smile softened his complexion as he lit a cigarette with a quick flick of his lighter. He took a long drag on the old friend and sighed, plumes of smoke escaping to the ceiling as thin wisps in the moonlight.

The orange-haired man listened to the sounds of his partner's movement, but never once opened his eyes to look up at him. Instead, he drifted back and forth between sleep and consciousness. Erol felt the knots in his back and limbs that he had accumulated during the day loosen, breathing deeply. The room and sheets were a relaxing chill against his heated flesh. The commander was no longer sure whether he had been lying in Razer's bed for five minutes or five hours. He did, however, resent himself when a quiet beeping of his watch alarm woke him from his dozing. Amber eyes flickering open, Erol gazed up to see the sleeping form of Razer in the dim rays; the Northerner's head drooped on his shoulder and a wasted cigarette clasped in his fingers over an ashtray on the nightstand. Erol slid off the bed in silence and wandered over to his neglected racing suit, bare feet padding softly on the wood.

"Where are you going?" Razer's faint whisper broke the quiet. His green eyes opened on his peaceful face to watch Erol pull on his rubber pants. He had hoped the commander would have stayed with him the whole night; they could have returned to the garage together a dawn.

"Out," was Erol's short reply to Razer's question. There was something in the Northerner's stare that prevented him from locking eyes with the man. He only pulled on his jacket even faster with a crude forcing manner as the rubber protested. "I need to get back to the garage." Erol remembered how he had no means of transportation from Razer's flat with his car safely in the garage.

"Take my Howler," Razer said in an off-handed tone. He looked at the clock aside the ashtray as he smothered his cigarette butt into the glass; it was one thirty in the morning. Razer had forgotten Erol's commitment to Sheila at two o'clock. His heart sunk at the thought of being alone the rest of the night, but he could not hold Erol back from his freedom. "The keys are in my coat pocket." Razer preoccupied himself by extracting another cigarette from the pack and lighting it up.

"It'll be on your lift in the morning for you then…" Erol replied softly, a little more tentative than his previous words. His boots were on and his hand was on the door jam, ready to leave. He hesitated; head hung in thought. Finally, without a look back to his lover, Erol walked out of the door and the apartment.

Razer sighed somberly as he heard the entry door open and close, followed by the sounds of his Howler 99 roaring to life and driving off into the night. Taking another long puff on his cigarette, Razer slumped down on his ruffled pillows to stare blankly at the bedroom wall. A half pack later, the Northerner was examining a crack in the peeling paint from his post. Outside, a buzzing hum was growing louder. Razer pulled himself up with some difficulty; his aches had turned into stiffness and walked to his bedroom window. Looking down the strip, he saw two headlights fast approaching. Speeders, Razer knew the sounds of the high powered engines anywhere. He was bout to turn away in disgust when a streak of bright orange flashed by his vision intermingled with a trail of black. In surprise, Razer flung open the window and stuck his head out after the retreating taillights. He was certain it was Erol and beside him, Sheila. The two were deadlocked, speeding down the street side by side, throwing punches as their speeders slammed together at full speed. Razer shut the window slowly as they vanished from sight; his mind was swimming with questions.

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**A/N: **Awe... Poor Razer... The child is used and abused, but come on folks it is Erol we're talking about here... Can't expect too much compassion from the commander... I think being happy would kill the man... It's like Mr. Spock in Star Trek... Dax: You're sick... sick, sick sick... A sick twisted weirdo... Me: I prefer the term "Freak" thank you Daxter... ** Dax: Review and tell this lady to stop! Have mercy!**


	7. Dawn at the Garage

**Disclaimer:** Does not own any of Jak and Daxter Series

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**Chapter 7: Dawn at the Garage**

The first rays of the new dawn were just barely lighting the horizon as Jak meandered into the deserted garage. His body was peaceful as he looked out of the wide doors of the hanger to see the stars beginning to fade in the sky. It was going to be a beautiful day for racing. All of his worries had vanished with the previous night's memories, but what he did remember made a pleasant smile come across his lips. He could still feel Keira's warmth on him skin and her serenity as she slept. He did not have the heart to wake her when he left her upstairs in their room.

Jak sighed in the tranquility of the morning. Retreating back into the dusty garage, he let his fingers flow over his tool cart, deciding which he should use first to tune his battle-scarred Basher. He enjoyed being the first man in the garage as his eyes wandered over the other racecars, noting how each car rivaled the driver for personality. He paused; Razer's Howler 99 was on its lift.

It was strange to see the car there. Jak knew Razer drove off with it to his home somewhere in Kras City rather than leaving it in the garage at the mercy of his fellow racers. Yet he did not see Razer anywhere, nor hear the car enter from above in his room. Jak shrugged off his fretting; Razer's business was something he refused to be a part of, let alone ponder what the man did besides drive and smoke. He seized a ratchet from the cart and slid underneath his Basher.

"Good morning, Jak," the familiar tease of a heavy accent made Jak jump beneath the front of his car. He rolled out from under the bumper to see Razer sauntering down the main axis of the garage. Jak's eyes narrowed; he could have sworn the Northerner was walking even more unusual than normal. Jak shivered. He tried not to think of the cause of Razer's friendly behavior and slid back under the frame.

Jak continued to tinker at the undercarriage as he listened to Razer's humming, which drifted up to his end of the hanger from the central slot. A soft purr began to drown out the Northerner's tone. Jak watched from under the metal wires and bars the bottom of a Haven speeder pass by; black and yellow combat boots on the foot pegs. Curious, Jak edged himself out far enough to see the orange flames of Erol's hair drift to a stop in front of his lift at the end. Jak kept himself hidden behind his front tire as he saw Razer striding after the commander.

Erol dismounted the speeder; Jak could see the stiffness hindering Erol's usual ease. The commander's face was bruised with a cut on his brow and a split lip, which were revealed when he lifted up his skull faceplate. Beaten frustration was written all over Erol; Jak did not need to be close to notice that; his suffering made Jak's mouth twist in a spiteful sneer.

Razer came up to Erol in the next instant. The Northerner's body language told Jak he was clearly concerned fro Erol. A scowl replaced the onlooker's sneer. The picture of the two men together perplexed Jak. The moment when Razer reached out to touch Erol's wounds was when Jak realized. The Precusors! Jak's jaw dropped, it was like some horrifying crash that he could not pull his gaze away from. Razer and Erol, the two biggest threats to him this season, were in bed with each other! Not just as partners in business, but partner partners! Jak suddenly felt the urge to retch. The last thing he saw was Erol slapping away Razer's hand to push his speeder between the wall and his Road Blade. Jak had retreated beneath his Basher as he heard Razer stalking back to his Howler. The man had ceased his humming.

Soon after Jak's witnessing, other drivers and teams began to filter into the garage. Today's race would be an evening race in the Forbidden Jungle and even though it was still early in the day, many teams wanted to make last minute adjustments prior to shipping out on the transports. Finished with his modifications, Jak sat on the hood of his large vehicle, gaining a bird's eye view of the rest of the bustle.

"There you are buddy!" A little orange streak was looking up at Jak lounging on the hood. Daxter's paws were on the hips of his tiny pants, furry foot padding in an impatient habit. He looked entirely unintimidating in his attempts to be perturbed. "Ya know Keira was lookin' for ya upstairs." He hopped up next to Jak and took in the sights. "Nice view…" He commented, watching the other drivers' heads bob up and down from behind their cars. "What's eatin' you?" He asked when Jak silence became overbearing.

Jak nodded down the row of racers to a yellow Road Blade, which was easing its way off the lift. The vehicle was flawless; not even a single scratch was left in the paint from the previous skirmish. A finely tuned engine purred as it slithered past them. Inside, Erol's eyes were fixed dead ahead; he did not even cast a threatening glare at Jak. That worried Jak even more, only adding to the mounting pile of evidence to support his previous theory. Something was bothering the commander, and for once it was not the headstrong blonde.

"Yeesh!" Daxter grimaced in horror. He too got the feeling Erol was not in one of his better moods, if Erol ever did have better moods. In fact, his Ottsel senses practically oozed with the heebie-jeebies from Erol's expression, or lack there of. "What's got his pants in a bunch!?!" Daxter looked to Jak to reaffirm his rhetorical question. Jak's expression did nothing to strengthen his joke.

"You don't want you know…" Jak felt a lump and the urge to vomit forming in his throat. All of this was only creating more disturbing images in his mind. Somehow, he found it more deranged and twisted than shocking and disbelieving. When it was said and done, it was still Razer who was the object of Erol's moodiness. "Fruit loop…" Jak mumbled under his breath, leaving Daxter to sit pondering Jak's words in his little rodent brain.

"Jak! There you are!" a gleeful cry came from behind Jak's car. He twisted around to see Keira trotting out of the shadows. Her turquoise hair fell in locks around her happy face; she always seemed pleasant even when she was furious. Jak could have sworn an angel had fallen into his presence. Was the love of his life always so beautiful?

"Keira!" Jak's heart skipped a beat. The man was never so happy to see her. He slid off the front of the Basher in one long, childish motion and ran to the woman, picking her up in his arms. Holding her tight to him, Jak let the warmth of her soft body wash away all of his previously crude thought. He felt like a new man and a little smile of relief showed it.

"Well that's a new way to say 'good morning'," Keira giggled before Jak pulled back to give her an exceptionally long kiss on the lips. Nothing forward, just one that made sure she knew he loved her; make sure she was real. "I'll take it!" Keira laughed when Jak finally let her go. She was rather flustered by her love's sudden displays of affection, but she was too taken aback to question his change in moods much. "Feeling better than yesterday?" The answer was obvious but she had to start a conversation somewhere.

"Yeah," Jak gave his quirky half grin; his eyes flashed with a matching demeanor. He always looked so awkward when he was happy, but then it fitted him perfectly. "I feel great now that you're here…" At least he knew Keira was the faultless match for him. Nothing could tear them apart.

"Oh brother!" Daxter dropped off the side of the car and padded toward the couple. "Would you two PLEASE! Get a room! You're making me sick with all this lovey-dovey shit! It's disgusting! Don't you two have any consideration for the people around you? Seriously, come on Jak! You don't want a girl bringing down your rep as a tough guy!"

Jak and Keira split from each other's grasp to survey the rampaging Daxter, Jak with one raised brow and an expression that said 'You've go to be kiddin' me!'. Keira, on the other hand, stood with her hands on her hips as Daxter winded himself. "Gee Dax, and here I thought Tess was going to hitch a ride with Dad out to the jungle for the race… I guess I'll call her and tell her you're not in the mood for any of that 'lovey-dovey' crap." Keira smiled sassily. She knew Daxter understood blackmail loud and clear, and was only upset because his soul mate was back in Haven City with her father, Samos.

That got Daxter's attention. "Tess?" Jak saw his fuzzy orange ears prick up. "Tess, coming to see me?" He ran a paw over his head as Keira's words sunk in. "I gotta clean up! I'm filthy!" Jak grinned as the Ottsel sprinted off in a flash of fur. Leave it to Keira to know exactly what to say; he wrapped an arm around her.

"Jak," the figure of Rayn appeared at the front of Jak's slot. Her clipboard of papers held expectantly in her hands. Despite the business woman's usual formality, Rayn seemed excited, even pleased as her sharp eyes leapt downt he rows of racecars. Slowly but surely, the caravan was beginning to organize for the trip out to the jungle, all by her own skill of course.

"Hey Rayn," Jak and Keira approached the gang leader arm in arm. He had managed to let go any hard feelings toward the woman since last year. Rayn was, after all, the daughter of Krew, the largest and possibly the most notorious gang leader next to Mizo. With both Krew and Mizo gone, Rayn stepped up to lead both Haven and Kras City's largest criminal scene and was not to be underestimated. Even though Jak and his friends nearly died of poison to win the last championship, Jak did not have the heart to refuse Rayn when she asked the team to return, with a formal apology. "How are things going?"

"Quite well actually," Rayn said in an optimistic tone. She had a few minutes to spare as cars rolled out of the hanger in an orderly manner. "So far, it appears your Erol friend hasn't been causing much trouble… The audience is actually responding well to the new faces this year…" She trailed off in thought.

"Not yet at least," Jak's good humor darkened as he glanced down to the now vacant lift where Erol's Road Blade had been moments earlier. "Razer and Erol have teamed up…" Jake figured it best to get the inevitable out of the way. Rayn should in any case know that those two were planning something. Jak twitched; somehow 'planning' took on a whole new meaning.

"We won't what there plans are until they happen…" Rayn's attention left to go outside the hanger, where a considerable amount of yelling accompanied a high-pitched rumble. Through the wide opening a speeder appeared, a black clad woman straddling a spike-riddled beast. Zooming past Rayn and the others, Sheila stood the nimble craft on its front blade with a long turn that dropped the craft hard to the concrete before her Dragonfly. "Right now," Rayn spoke as she watched the Icelander dismount and climb up onto her vehicle to give it a once over. "They're the least of my worries…" Her voice was foreboding as the Dragonfly roared to life at ignition. "If you'd excuse me, Jak you can pull out to load up." Rayn dismissed and headed off toward the source of the disruption.

Jak eyes the Icelander and released Keira from his grasp as Razer drove past in his Howler 99. "Time to load up," Jak sighed and climbed into his Basher, rolling it off the lift with Keira's help and out of the garage. Outside, a long hover carrier was awaiting the last few racers. Jak eased the enormous racecar in its place behind Razer and shut off the engine.

"Be sure not to scratch my paint with that green monstrosity…" Razer taunted as he flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette with the usual finesse. "I would start getting in those 'touching moments' with your grease monkey of a girlfriend, Jak." The Northerner chuckled. "You never know when it'll be your last…" Razer flashed a bewitchingly sinister smile up at the blonde.

Jak ignored Razer's mocks until he jumped out of his Basher to land next to the dashing criminal. With a hard glare, Jak did not resist to voice the level-headed and cold comeback of "Speak for yourself, Razer." His lips curled in repulsion, eyes narrowing as he turned to stalk out of the carrier.

Razer's teeth ground together in pure fury. The boy had seen him with Erol. He had only wanted to make sure the commander was unharmed; that he was safe. Emerald eyes tapered as the green Basher next to him caught his vengeance. Razer's smile returned more menacing than before as he reached into his pocket and removed his switchblade. Flicking the sharp knife out of its casing, Razer bent down to slash a small incision in the fuel line, tiny enough go unnoticed by officials but just large enough to ensure disaster with the right amount of fire power. "Just some friendly advice from a professional…" Razer chuckled to himself and flicked away his finished cigarette.

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**A/N: **Well Folks... It's time to get this plot rolling again... (bad pun i kno) But anyways... Since Raz/Erol is on the rocks... We're gonna have some serious plotting going on these next couple of chapters... Razer is up to no good as usual... Erol is piss as Hell... and this Sheila chick has got in in her head to come in stirring everything up... We'll see what's got Rayn all worked up about this chick soon enough... **REVIEW! ** Dax: TESS IS COMING!!!!!! YAY!!!!! You guys are gonna have to stick around to see my gal! 


	8. Welcome to the Jungle

**Disclaimer: **Naughty Dog owns all of Jak and Daxter Series**  
**

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**Chapter 8: Welcome to the Jungle**

"Keira!" A short, green man welcomed the transports as Jak's team touched upon the dirt landing pad of the Forbidden Jungle. The elderly fellow appeared as if he had sprouted the vast forest itself, with two trunks of wood as platforms on his feet and a log wrapped amongst is white hair. A branching staff was in the small man's hand, while a tiny bird perched on the end of his log headpiece. His long beard was like snow in the noonday sun.

"Daddy!" Keira rushed off the ramp to give Samos the Green Sage a daughterly hug. She would always be a daddy's girl at heart, even though they sometimes did not see eye to eye. She especially hated when he refused to acknowledge that she was not his little girl anymore.

"Daxy?" A little Ottsel appeared from behind Samos. Blonde locks framed her coy face that was lit with a hopeful expectation. Like Daxter, she too had Ottsel sized clothing that consisted of a tight olive green top and blue denim shorts. He gloved paws were folded before her curving hourglass figure in anticipation.

"Tess!" Daxter yelped and scuttled around Jak's legs as the rest of the team was disembarking. The furry Ottsel practically threw himself into his counterpart's open arms, sending them both tumbling. Without hesitation, Daxter proceeded to to litter his love with kisses, making Tess giggle.

"Hello Samos," Jak said as he took his place next to Keira, opposite the sage. Just because he was dating Samos's daughter did not mean Jak was automatically on the man's good side. Although, he liked to think it required Samos to be a little more hospitable. "How are things?"

"Better," Samos answered as Torn, Ashelin and Sig joined them. He surveyed them from behind his lopsided glasses. "It's good to see that you're all in one piece, what with Erol turning up again…" He had been following the races ever since Erol's reclamation of his NYFE Class 1 speeder racing title as champion.

"What?" Jak thought he was hearing things. Samos had actually known Erol was back, and he did not tell them. How long had Erol been around without his knowledge?

"And you didn't tell us?" Torn growled. He was as clearly outraged as Jak and the others at this news. After all, he spent a good part of his younger years serving under the commander, and hated him nearly as much as Jak.

"Well," Samos began. It was obvious he now regretted withholding the information from the team. "I had hoped it was a nobody using the name for publicity's sake; but when it was all over the city about Erol's grand return, I couldn't deny it. So I took to following his movements. However, it seemed Haven City did not have much to offer once he had the title, and I lost track of him until he turned up in the Kras City tournament. By then I'm sure you would have known about his reappearance." The stout, little, green man looked even more ashamed than when he started his tale.

"Why didn't you tell us, Daddy?" Keira asked. Her father once lead the Underground against the tyrant Baron Praxis and the Metal Heads to rescue Haven City, and the Freedom League after that. She understood how connected her father was within that city.

"I didn't want to worry you all…" Samos sighed and hung his head. "I thought I could handle this dilemma without getting you kids involved, but it's clear that will never happen…"

"We've been involved, old man," Ashelin spoke up. She was annoyed by the fact Samos seemed to be slipping with his old age. "It's been because of us that everything gets taken care, while you sit talking to rocks and bushes." Her hand planted firmly on her wide hips, Ashelin's glare was critical on the sage.

"Woh, woh, woh," Sig broke in as usual. He was not about to let Ashelin or the others reduce the old man into a puddle of green goo with their criticism. "The gact of the matter is we got one pissed-off ginger on a revenge streak paired up with that funny-talkin' fashion monger, who are both out to turn Jak here into trophies for their mantel along with anybody else that gets in the way."

At that moment the rally horn for the start of the race sounded, causing the argument to cease as the drivers split and retrieved their cars from the transports to be lined up at the start line. Keira gave Jak a good luck kiss as he ventured off to find his Basher. Feeling like was missing something, Jak glanced around for Daxter, who had mysteriously disappeared along with Tess.

"Lose your pet rat?" Razer leaned against the side of the carrier, arms folded with a cigarette raised to his lips. He watched as Jak looked over both of his armored shoulders and around his feet in search of the Ottsel. "Should start by checking under people's tires, hmmm?" He smirked at Jak as the blonde walked directly past him. Razer lifted a brow at the snub and peered inside the transport to see Jak leap into the driver's seat of his racer, fire it up and roll it off the ramp heading to the line-up. Razer blew a long exhale of smoke from his nostrils and spun on his heel to do the same for his Howler.

Erol was already waiting at the starting line when Jak pulled up beside him. Not that the commander truly cared at the moment; his mind was completely void of thought. Instead he sat like a statue within the iron bars of his Road Blade's roll cage. On his vacant side, Sheila's Dragonfly pulled in and beyond it, Razer in his Howler 99. The only thing Erol recognized, however, was the track ahead of him; this time he would not settle for second place.

"Welcome," Pecker's voice came over the loud speaker for the race introductions. "Today we are live from the Forbidden Jungle for another hair raising circuit race!"

"WAIT!" A obnoxiously loud scream echoed through the cars as Daxter bounded down the lanes to Jak's green Basher, springing to his place on the top of the roll cage in a single jump. "Okay! We're good!" Daxter hitched up his falling trousers. "What?" He asked when Jak gave him a reproachful look. "Can't an Ottsel get some lovin' too? Honestly!"

"GO!" Pecker sounded as the banner turned green for the second time that season and the start line was left behind in a cloud of dust. The racers barreled through the ruined temples and over the crumbling bridge onto the beachfront. There, the pack split between the sandy shoreline and the highroad through the jungle. Past the ocean, the track twisted back beneath the forest canopy through the flooded temple and off a final cliff to the finish line.

For the first lap, Razer kept his road-rage in check, trailing in the center of the pack while he watched Jak and Erol scrape paint in front of him. He wanted Jak, and only Jak. The Northerner was not about to risk catching Erol in the crossfire when he blew the Basher into scrap metal. By now the sputtering fuel line should have given the entire undercarriage a good soaking in gasoline. All he had to do was wait for Jak to gradually fall back as the gauge neared empty. Then annihilation was only a button tap away; how his trigger finger did itch with anticipation to see the racer go up in flames.

Jak, on the other hand, was too preoccupied with the yellow Road Blad that was mercilessly ramming the side of his car along with the blue fender of Sheila's Dragonfly in front of him. The Icelander had gotten lucky and managed to power slide past him as they entered the ruins a second time. At that moment, Jak saw Erol as more of a threat beside him and noted the front of the golden racer edging its way out ahead of his car. The advance continued even as Jak's foot pressed the throttle to the floor boards. He jammed the turbos when he realized the accelerator was not enough, something was wrong.

"Gang way chili peppers!" Sig made a break for the lead with his store of turbos. He easily passed Razer's Howler without a fight and quickly came up on the battling racers. Taking careful aim, the Wastelander fired off a round of grenades, which struck squarely on the back of the Road Blade. Sig swerved to avoid the injured vehicle and tossed Jak a casual salute as he sped past.

"Dammit!" Erol swore badly as his Road Blade dropped from the Basher's side. From sheer fury, he slammed the palm of his hand against the wheel and rammed the sole of his combat boot against the accelerator. He had Jak right next to him. He could have ended the pest's life and still have taken the race, but no, that Wastelander friend of Jak's had to ruin everything for him. The commander's hatred for all walks of life was rising as rapidly as his temper.

Razer saw his window of opportunity open as Sig's racer took Erol out of the battle. A confident smile on his lips, Razer extended his reserved throttle to push the pedal to the floor and closed the distance between him and the leaders. Below, the missiles latched onto the wounded Basher. "Bye-bye Jak," Razer mused and pulled the trigger.

Something was seriously wrong with Jak's car. He had neglected to check the fuel gauge earlier, and now the panel read empty. Jak desperately jammed the blue eco as Sig flew by in a blast of cerulean. "We got a problem Dax!" Jak shouted; he was trying everything to restart the failing engine. Beneath the hood, he could hear the cylinders beginning to grind on fumes.

"That's not all!" Daxter yelled, causing Jak to look over his shoulder in time to see two missiles firing from the black Howler. "Abandon ship!" Daxter screamed as Jak seized him from his perch on the roll cage and leapt from the vehicle. In a fiery blast of steel and iron, they both were sent tumbling to the ground with the momentum from the doomed racer.

A cold hearted chuckle escaped Razer's lips while the twisted wreckage passed him by. He was entering the flooded temple, the final leg before the finish line and there were only two insignificant drivers in his way to glory. The Northerner tapped the turbo to gain some speed on the leaders. Ahead, Sig's tan Howler was right on Sheila's tail.

Soon enough, Razer was along side the Wastelander with the first watery bend. Both Howlers slammed together and a sudden explosion resulted in Sig's car disappearing in a cloud of flames. Razer knew immediately that the blast was a red eco mine from Sheila. He had to smile; the Icelander had knocked out his competition and now all he had to do was get around her. That feat would not be difficult; she was a girl after all.

The second and final turn was fast approaching and Razer eased back to allow the Dragonfly to hydroplane across the track. The advantage of having the inside turn fell neatly into Razer's plan and he hit the turbos. However, his plan did not go quite as he expected when the treads of the Howler's wheels lost their grip to the slick rocks, sandwiching the Dragonfly between the car's side panel and the temple wall. The sounds of scraping metal reverberated through the ruins as Razer chanced a glance over to the opposing driver's seat. Sheila was glaring sapphire daggers at him as the two racers broke out of the turn and sped toward the drop off.

Razer stared straight back at the woman; he was not about to let her win even a staring contest. He knew this track like the back of his hand, having run it thousands of times before in his career. As soon as he felt the front tires leave solid ground, Razer pressed the turbos one final time as the Dragonfly broke away in thin air. The finish line was dead ahead. Razer smiled coolly with the victory as his Howler sped across first. Dropping the emergency brake, the Howler slid to a stop on the side of the track to watch the remaining cars cross.

A few seconds behind, Sheila's Dragonfly took second place. While above, Erol's Road Blade emerged from the temple to drop into thin air. The yellow racer flew across the line and grounded to a halt before Razer's Howler. Erol's amber gaze was surveying the Northerner, who was basking in his victory with natural confidence. There was something different in his look though; the cold loathing of the morning had faded to curiosity. He had seen the mangled debris of Jak's Basher, but was it Razer's doing? A discreetly devilish smirk from the Northerner confirmed the commander's theory. Replying with his own approving sneer, Erol glance back as the final racers took flight. Sig and Ashelin managed to finish with smoldering racers as a crew emerged from the convoy to reclaim the losses of the race. Without another look back, Erol took off toward the transports to load his Road Blade for the return trip back to Kras City.

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**A/N: **The pain... Transition chapters are sooooo horrible... I cant stand this how long it took for me to finish this one chapter, but I'm afraid it's a necessary evil. Gotta get back in the groove here... Reviews please! 


	9. Whispers

**Disclaimer: **Does not own Jak and Dax**  
**

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**Chapter 9: Whispers**

The moon crept over the horizon as the racing convoy returned to the Kras City garage. The day had been long, but the night life was only just beginning when the drivers finally rolled their battered cars onto the lifts. Fortunately, the competitors were blessed with a day of rest before the impending Red Eco Cup Qualifier. For many of the drivers, the free day would be spent with a welder and a tool cart.

"Ya know, it could have been worse," Daxter commented at the ruined mess that rested in Jak's slot of the garage. His furry paw wrapped around Tess's back as she clung to his orange chest, while the other sat on his belt loop. Like the rest of the team that surrounded the twisted pile, Daxter had trouble hiding his dismay over the predicament, which foreshadowed an early end if they did not find a replacement for the Basher. "I mean, we're not dead, right?" Daxter looked up to his best friend beside him.

"Yet…" Jak answered sullenly. Apart from a few bruises on his back and sides he was in perfect health. On the other hand, his mind teemed with anxiety that only showed as a dark foreboding expression on his face. There was no way that he could begin to salvage the Basher; it was beyond even being spare parts. He knew he would find a replacement easily enough, he always found a way, but it was the fact that somebody had sabotaged his car in the first place which bothered him. At the rate the season was going his chances of survival were thinning quickly.

"Don't worry Jak," a solemn voice parted the group to allow Rayn into the circle. She looked tired and slightly frustrated as her eyes gave the twisted metal a once over. "You can drive my Dragonfly for the qualifier. It's not as sturdy as your Basher, but it's fast and it has the same engine power."

"We'll make due…" Jak said, pulling Keira to him as she drew closer. He glanced to the other faces in the group; they all clearly shared his same notions of fool play. Ashelin and Torn were standing arm in arm across on the opposite side of Rayn while Sig stood next to Samos with his arms folded over his broad chest. "We're just going to have to be more careful, people still want us dead…" When Jak said 'people', the other knew he meant Razer and Erol.

"I'll make sure nothing will slip by my officials' next inspection," Rayn assured. She had just as much as the team riding on their victory; her business depended on her team taking the gold. Rayn understood she may not be able to control Erol, Razer, or even Razer's crew, but she did know how to tip the scales in her favor with the racing committee. One of those tricks was cutting off any advantage the two may have over her own team. "I need to ask you all a favor," Rayn began, burying her nerves for the greater cause.

"And just what kind of favor would that be?" Ashelin growled in her skeptical purr. She still had yet to totally let go of the poison incident, but then she was raised to trust her instincts before anyone else. Rayn had already caught her trust off guard with her act before, Ashelin was not about to let it happen again.

Rayn cast a side glance at Ashelin from the corner of her eye. "I have a business meeting with a new associate and I would like some of you to accompany me." Rayn's complexion seemed honest enough, and this time it was genuine at heart as well. "Not you, Ashelin," she cut off the fiery redhead before she could make another comment. "Jak, I'd like you and Sig to come with me in case things don't go favorably…"

"You can count on me, boss lady," Sig smiled. He had been in the business long enough to understand exactly what Rayn meant by things not going 'favorably'. After being Krew's trophy collector of Metal Heads, Sig was more than happy to help Rayn in whatever way he could. She appeared to be far more considerate and level-headed than her father. From prior knowledge, Sig realized that did not stop her from being ruthless either.

The low rumble of engines drew Jak's gaze away from the conversation. He watched as Erol's Road Blade slithered past followed by Razer's black and red Howler 99. Whatever had gone awry with his Basher was because of one of them; he was sure of it and he was prepared to play dirty it that was how the season was going to be. He focused back to his team and to Rayn, who was awaiting an answer. "I'm in…"

Erol was less than happy to see the blonde and his rat still alive as he rolled his Road Blade up onto the lift. The commander climbed out of his racer and turned to give its body a quick inspection. Deep grooves were left in the side where he had traded paint with Jak and the rear engines needed work from Sig's grenade blast; his car would have to wait until tomorrow. Erol had more pressing matters to attend to in the fast approaching night. A low swift hum of a speeder broke Erol's exam of the engine's turbos as Sheila swept past in a blur of black. Pursing his lips in thought and partial annoyance, the commander rose to find his abandoned speeder at its place next to the wall and walked the slim craft down to the black Howler near the center of the garage. He made sure to keep a careful eye on the now Jak's now disbanding team.

"Looks like your little antics failed," Razer refused to look up at the cold sneer beside him and instead continued to make headway on repairing the scraps in his car. The Northerner's disappointment was far more difficult to suppress than the commanders. His plan had been executed flawlessly, save for one detail; Jak was still breathing. "I have yet to see you do anything better…" Razer hissed with an air of a high-society snub. "In fact, I'm beginning to think you'd rather have the boy as your new bumper buddy with how close you two were driving together today. Ramming speed, if I'm correct…" Razer's emeralds flicked up in a sinister manner, silently inquiring Erol's real interest in Jak. He gave a delighted smirk and lit a cigarette as he gazed up at the commander, who did not look at all happy with his comments.

Erol narrowed his amber gems at Razer's suggestive remarks. He would not let the Northerner's prodding ignite his temper. "I like to watch my enemies die slowly," Erol spat and took a step around from behind his speeder as Razer stood up to give his attention to the conversation. "Unlike you and your hurried plans, I like to keep every detail in my control and watch at they crumble from the inside out." Erol's passion crept into the corners of his bloodthirsty snarl.

"Go on," the expression on Erol's face had captured Razer's undivided attention. He clearly saw Erol had some sort of master plan formulating behind the thick exterior of stone. Cutting fuel lines and other means of sabotage were out of the question now that Rayn was most likely aware of his attempts to kill Jak.

The bloodlust vanished from Erol. His expression blanked into complete calm; an exacting glint growing in his eyes as they flickered between thin air and the calculations in his brain. "We already have your drivers in this sport against him… But we need another ally, another person to divide his focus, compromise his loyalties…" Erol's fingers gripped the handle of his speeder as his sharp stare met with Razer's.

"What do you mean 'another ally'?" Razer skepticism won over his anticipation. Who exactly was the commander talking about? No person in particular came to Razer's mind that could fit into the description Erol was giving him, unless. "Her?" Razer jaw dropped in loathing disgust. "Please tell me you're joking, this is just some sick charade?" He brandished his white teeth at the thought of Sheila Owens, an Icelandic rookie hotshot and a medal thief. His anger flared with just the mere mention of the insolent woman.

An orange brow lifted to Razer's reaction. Erol understood the Northerner's hatred, but at this point in time he sought to gain the wild card's favor before Jak and Rayn could sway her. Another threat against Jak would be another ace in the pair's pocket for the blonde's final destruction. "Just get on the bike, or we'll be late for our meeting…" Erol growled. He was not going to explain his motives in the open air of the garage.

Razer bit the filter of his drag for an exceedingly long inhale. He needed it to steady his mind. Erol had a point, another driver in their favor would pull Jak's attention in three ways instead of only two, and whether he like to acknowledge the fact of not, Sheila was a fair driver, cold blooded and suicidal if nothing else. He crossed his arms in contemplation, elbow cradled in his palm as his cigarette-laden hand was raised beside his ear. "And you expect me to just hop on the back of your speeder like some kind of bitch?"

Erol put a disgruntled hand on his hip. The Northerner's complaining was getting on his nerves. "Unless you're in the mood to be shot for showing up in that Class 1 piece of shit…" Erol considered just leaving Razer in the garage; it was his turn to dive after the past nights abduction. Without another word, he mounted the speeder and stared the high powered engine. Razer could stay and fix his Howler for all that he cared.

The Northerner heaved a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes as he tossed away the cigarette butt. He honestly could not believe he was going to consent to even touching a speeder, let alone ride on the back while Erol drove. He cast a glance across the garage to make sure no unfriendly eyes were watching him get on the bike. Unfortunately, everyone seemed to have turned in for the night ore were inspecting their racers and Razer had no excuse but to swing a leg over the speeder and settle himself on the small seat behind Erol. A small smirk replaced his displeasure when he noticed how close their bodies were together; perhaps this was not as bad as he once thought.

"Hold on," Erol said over his shoulder and slid his skull faceplate down over his complexion. His hand revved the engine as Razer's arms curled about his waist, a little tighter than normal causing his entire back to be pulled into Razer's embrace. He rolled his eyes and veered the speeder round to fly out of the garage. He wanted to make sure Razer was too distracted by velocity to get any other ideas and make sure his first time on a speeder would be something to remember.

Jak glanced up from his train of thought as he heard the sound of a second speeder shake the dust from the rafters. A flash of orange and red disappeared into the darkness outside the hanger, taking the same path as Sheila did earlier. Jak's brow furrowed and he stroked his goatee as he connected the dots in his head; Sheila was the wild card for the season and had a particular fondness for speeders. Stretching, Jak stood up and took inventory of his surroundings. The only drivers remaining in the garage were Ashelin and Torn, who were off in there own secluded corner, himself and Sig, who was fiddling with the wiring to his engine. Even Daxter had gone to bed, but then he could not blame the Ottsel what with Tess being with him. Not even Keira could have cheered his lousy disposition at the moment and instead he left himself to wait for Rayn to finish the final reports of the day before they headed off to her 'business meeting'. In any case, Jak did not feel like sulking in his misery alone and strode over to the Wastelander's Howler.

"Don't let it get you down kid," Sig said as Jak pulled up a stool next to his work. He was soldering two severed ends together and even though he did not see Jak's face, he sensed that something was bothering the boy. "We'll get 'em back no problem… Then we'll be on top of the heap again, you'll see…"

Jak looked out of the wide doors into the night. He knew Sig was talking about Razer and Erol, but for some reason his thoughts were not on them. "Sig, what do you know about Icelanders?" He had never given much thought to his new competitor's origin, but his instincts told him now was the time to find out some information on the new coming challenger.

"Icelanders?" Sig sat up to gaze his young comrade in the eye and gave a grim laugh. "They're nothing but Marauders down there… Cold blooded barbarians with a knack for causing trouble. You remember the once from up north in the Wastelands? Well their home city is in the Icelands. Let me tell you something," Sig leaned on his knee to speak softly even though they were the only ones left in the garage. "Those people are born and bred to be fearless and as merciless as our dear cherries across the line," Sig nodded to Razer's Howler. "Now I don't know about this Sheila gal, but if we don't get her on our side, you can damn sure she'll be on Razer and Erol's…" Sig turned back to his wiring. His positive outlook had darkened considerably. He hated Marauders; not a single one he met during his years in the Wastelands gave him any reason to trust the lot of them.

Jak sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Sig's words had not been as comforting as he anticipated; in the back of his mind he hoped the Wastelander was wrong about Sheila. "Let's just hope Rayn knows that…" Jak folded his arms across his chest as he stared out into the night.


	10. Blue Halo

**Disclaimer: **Does not own Jak and Dax Series**  
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**Chapter 10: Blue Halo**

The city lights flashed by in streaks of amber against the black haze of buildings, Razer clung to Erol for dear life as the wind blasted across his face. He was hardly even able to open his eyes into the damp night air. Rather than fighting to see where the commander was taking him, the Northerner buried his face in the nape of Erol's neck, pressing his to the man's flesh. His grip tightened around the man's waist. Razer's entire body was rigid and practically crushed Erol to his frame; he felt that if he slackened his grip even the slightest bit, he would fly off the back of the speeder. Razer wondered about reconsidering his previous notion of speeders being mere toys.

An insane smirk burned behind the commander's faceplate with every press Razer place upon him. Fear emanated from the Northerner, fueling Erol to crank the throttle even closer to red line. The winding route was clear in his mind and the commander set his sights to inflicting as much adrenaline into his companion's veins as possible, power sliding through the hairpin corners while casually laying the bike over on a cushion of air inches away from the pavement. Erol almost regretted having to slam on the air brakes as the reached a darkened part of the city, where the buildings loomed high in the air and the ocean breeze never stirred.

"You can let go of me any time, sunshine," Erol scoffed when he had to force Razer upwards to sit straight. He flicked up his mask and turned his attention to the unmoving head buried in his shoulder. Erol rolled his eyes; Razer was just being clingy. The ride had not been that terrifying, especially when the passenger was a racer by profession.

Razer wanted to move, but his limbs had turned to lead. All he was able to do was continue to clutch Erol's stomach. Erol, on the other hand, was not so considerate of Razer's frozen condition when Razer felt the commander stand, breaking the vice grip Razer had on him. The Northerner's eyes widened as he only source of support vanished and sent him toppling off the side of the speeder to the asphalt. Spell broken, Razer laid limp for a moment flat on his back as he stared up into blackness. The moonlight did not reach beyond the high rooftops.

"You're pathetic…" Erol appeared in Razer's line of sight, arms crossed until he offered a hand to pull Razer to his feet.

"Where are we?" The Northerner asked as he brushed the dirt from his jacket. The streets were too dark for him to recognize what part of the city they were in.

"The west side of the city," Erol stated as he pushed the speeder into a hidden lift and pressed a keypad, causing the lift to spring to life and descend, taking the bike to some unseen level below. Speeder gone, Erol stepped up to the doorway beside the lift and nodded for Razer to draw closer; the Northerner was standing in the center of the street like a lost child. A solid rap to the wood brought Erol eye to eye with a face behind a slot in the portal, flashes of blue escaped from beyond the guard and spilled out into the night.

"Blue Halo…" Erol said smoothly. The face disappeared as the screen closed and the sounds of numerous dead blots unlatching could be heard from behind the entrance. A tall burly man appeared as the door swung open to allow the pair to enter.

Beyond the door reveals a vast warehouse painted in neon blue light. Bolts of blue eco streaked across wires and transistors illuminating the dance floor below in flashes of light, where countless figures formed a shadowed mass before the stage. Women danced in suspended cages as the eco surged through their bodies, speeding their rhythmic motions in waves of lightning. From the stage pulsed the beat of the band which fueled the rave underneath; its performers clad in elaborate costumes of fishnets, spikes and buckles as the lead singer made his way between exotic dancers and their metallic poles that coursed azure.

Razer noticed a long bar on which more dancers dipped and twirled. Outside the reaches of the ice blue lights of the dance floor, the light faded to deep navy hiding the secluded booths and table along with their occupants. The Northerner took in the entire club as he followed Erol, including the various exits to backrooms and allies. Every face was far younger than his and they all sported the same gothic style; they were all speeder racers.

Erol lead the way into the club, but veered from his path before they passed from the navy twilight into the sky blue dance floor. He instead turned toward an iron staircase, where a large, muscled woman stood guard with a blue Vulcan Fury machine gun in her grasp. She had a small, round face beneath a short mop of magenta hair, which was ratted to stand on end; two long side bangs of black framed her defensive expression. An assortment of furs and hides adorned her heavy boned body, giving her the look of a true Marauder. The woman snapped to attention as Erol approached. Small lavender eye squinted suspiciously at the commander and his friend.

"I'm here to see Sheila…" Erol waved the bodyguard aside with his racing glove. The woman gave him a severe gaze to size up the shorter man and moved aside to unblock his path to the rod iron staircase.

The stairway led up to a private balcony, which overlooked all of the club. Blue eco curled up Jacobs ladders in bright arcs, casting the otherwise dim lounge into an eerie shad of glacier blue. Low futons and lounge chairs were littered across the expanse and were occupied by a variety of scantily clad men and women. Some of them gambled one the glass tables while they sipped glowing neon drinks; others were wrapped in private exchanges, many not involving words.

The hostess of the humble establishment was not difficult to locate, having taken the longest blue futon for herself in the center of the balcony directly overlooking the stage. Sheila Owens sat between two thin, topless boys. Her arms were around each of their naked backs as she whispered into their ears to play the hand of cards they huddled about. A wicked smile crossed her face as one man laid down two cards while the other raised the stakes.

"Is it too late to deal me in?" Erol inquired to announce his presence. He noticed two of the other card players in chairs opposite Sheila's couch lean forward to fold their hands and remove themselves from the seats to make room for Erol and Razer. Not waiting for an invitation to sit, Erol placed himself firmly in the chair that was most directly in line with Sheila's vision. His golden eyes staring at the Icelander as Razer took up the vacant seat beside him.

"Erol!" Sheila exclaimed, her wicked smile growing at the pair's appearance. She unwrapped herself from the clinging men on her lap to sit back against the cushions, black sleeves falling off her spiked gauntlets to her elbows as she stretched. "And here I was beginning to think you two weren't coming…" Her sapphire eyes flicked to Razer and back. The two men on Sheila's lap were looking for guidance, and quickly climbed off the woman when she motioned for them to leave; the pair rejoining in embrace as they sauntered away. "So," Sheila turned back to Erol after the men had left her sight, "What can I do for you boys?"

Erol raised a brow in a side glance to Razer, who gave a quick nod of approval before the commander spoke. "We need your assistance to make sure this season goes as it should…" Erol began, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the edges of the padded armrests, ready for negotiations. "Namely Jak dead and the title of champion falling to Razer…" Erol trailed off as he cast an intimidating glare at his partner. However, the moment faded and Erol returned to Sheila.

"So you, Erol," Sheila was examining her card in thought, "are giving up the chance of becoming the Kras City racing champion to Razer in return for his help in settling your old score with Jak." The woman glanced up to the commander for confirmation of her theory. Erol's sullen expression was answer enough. "And you'd like me to help you both in destroying Jak and getting Razer his title back…" She set her cards on the table. "Your stakes are very high boys," she leaned an elbow on her knee in a masculine fashion that suited her conservative look. "What's in it for me?"

"What do you want from us?" Razer broke in. He lounged casually in his chair, looking at home in the nightclub atmosphere with his arms propped up at his sides. A freshly lit cigarette glowed orange in the blue light between his green tinted gloves. He realized Sheila would find some way to profit from this deal.

"I want endorsement rights," Sheila sat back again and hung her arms over the cushions of the sofa, kicking her combat boots up onto the table, "from the Kras City racing committee legalizing speeder races. I want my sport to be right up there next to combat racing, where it should be… I want an official racing season, facilities, faculity, and even media coverage… I want everything…" Sheila stated blatantly, glancing from Razer to Erol and back. "With the championship ours and Jak gone… it shouldn't be too hard for men of your power to persuade the committee to see my point."

"Deal," Erol said the instant Sheila finished. Her terms would be easy enough to settle once Jak was out of the picture. He knew almost anyone these days could be persuaded with the right means, a blaster to the temple worked well. Ambition got the better of his composure and the commander leapt to his feet to shake on the arrangement.

"Ah," Sheila raised a hand to stop Erol. "Don't be too hasty my dear commander." She raised herself to her feet. "It just so happens I have another meeting to attend before I shake any hands…" A sly glint played in her porcelain face as the men realized their opposition would also be speaking with the Icelander. "I have to hear both sides of this bargain, but from the word on the streets, your proposal is sounding extremely promising…" Sheila flashed a confident grin. "Until then, I'd like to introduce my second, Cyan."

A short woman with electric blue locks emerged from a chair in the corner of the balcony railing and an iron support beam. Her long spiked hair was swept back from a marble cut face and she had ice blue eyes blended perfectly into her complexion with the blue lighting of the room. Sharp heeled boots raised her small frame up to Erol's height, ending around her mid thigh to give way to a mini skirt and a matching corset, both of thick racing leather. Despite her petite size, Cyan's bare upper body was well toned for fighting. Her navy painted lips never parted; she let her piercing stare do the talking for her.

Sheila wrapped a friendly arm around Cyan's shoulder as she took her place beside her boss. "Why don't you show Erol and Razer how hospitable we can be here at the Blue Halo…?" The Icelander smiled and released her silent friend. When she turned back to the pair of men, she noted how Erol's amber eyes were gazing at Cyan in a predatory fashion. Razer, however, had his emerald stare fixed on Erol and narrowed in suspicion.

Sheila's brush off quickly slipped Erol's mind with the addition of Cyan, the female's body language radiated will power in every movement to anyone intelligent enough to make read. While her bared biceps showed she would make the fact easily known for those who did not see. Strong silent women were hard to come by, which only drew Erol further into the woman's snare as he took in how her tall heels and mini skirt emphasized her swaying hips. Erol set his dropped jaw in a lustful smirk. Walking a bit taller than when he entered, the commander followed his guide, who was disappearing down the staircase. Her stare caught his as she rounded down the first flight; it showed a burning challenge of 'come and claim me' as Cyan descended the second flight. Erol was about to put Sheila's hospitability to the test.

Abandoned by Erol, Razer had no choice but to trail after in suite. Taking a long drag, he wandered down the flights of stairs into the heart of the club. His eyes kept track of the commander as he pursued the blue woman through the crowd at the bar; it was disgusting to see how easily Erol fell for the woman's act. Women were all the same in his mind, weak-minded sex traps ready to turn any man into a slave just by mere appearance. Now on the main floor, he bypassed the stares from the younger throng until he found an empty space at along the high bar counter. Motioning for the bartender, Razer took another puff of his cigarette as he looked about the scene. Erol had vanished somewhere in the mass of dancers, but when Razer's scan reached the main entrance a new yet familiar sight met him. Rayn, Jak and Sig filed through the dark portal one after the other. Wasting no time, the gang leader in her pressed business suit blazed the trail towards the magenta Marauder. The competition had officially arrived and all Razer could do was smoke his cigarette and drown his anxiety in the bottom of his glass.

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**A/N: **Woot! Another Chapter down... Things are starting to finally get interesting... The next chapter I'm looking forward to. I attempted to break up the paragraphs a bit to make reading a bit easier, but being the detail monger I am... I can only seem to do so much... Oh well, I still like this chapter. The image of the Blue Halo was haunting me, I want one of those Blue Eco cages... -evil grin- Dax: Yeah, and Razer to fill it... Me: SHHH! He'll hear!!!  



	11. Underworld Deals

**Chapter 11: Underworld Deals**

Jak had not known what to expect as he, Rayn and Sig walked through the shady portal. However, when he laid eyes on the rave that opened before him, the blonde could not help but give an approving smile as he saw the pulsing throng on the dance floor and the bar. It had been a long time since he had seen a real party. Jak did not have the opportunity to check out the rest of the club; Rayn walked by all the action to a guarded staircase. "I'd hate to pay their eco bill…" he mumbled to Sig, who gave a hearty chuckle at the lightning bolts of blue.

"Sig," Rayn stopped and rounded back to her friends. The club held no interest for her in any way, shape, or form. In fact, an extreme hatred for the pace developed in her gut. Night clubs like Sheila's only hurt her own business. "I want you to stand guard down here…" Rayn glanced at her surroundings, checking the nearest escape routes. "Just in case…"

"You got it," Sig hitched his Peace Maker further up on his armored shoulder plate. He gave Jak a reassuring thump on the back as the other two ascended without him. Heaving a heavy sigh, Sig took up the empty space on the other side of the staircase and surveyed the thriving party with a content simper on his face. His good green eye wandered beside him to notice the violet haired woman was checking him out. Sig's grin widened in an awkward embarrassment; he was always fond of big girls.

"Rayn," Sheila stood at the balcony rail when the business woman and Jak reached the top. She had been watching in amusement as Cyan drug Erol through the mosh pit in pursuit while Razer sulked at the bar counter, passing up all the younger women who took an interest. "Please sit," Sheila motioned to the long sofa as he played the role of a gracious hostess. "Now," she began, taking up Erol's chair, "what would bring a couple of big shots like you and Jak to my modest institution?" Venom laced the Icelander's smile as she settled herself in a formal manner. She prepared for Rayn's onslaught of tactless demands. Unlike Erol, Rayn did not consider Sheila as much of an ally than a pawn and Sheila planned to change that view.

"Your allegiance," Rayn stated. She had no time for any word games with the Icelander. The woman already caused enough trouble just by existing; Rayn would not tolerate Sheila's chaos ruining her sport as well. "Don't side with Razer and Erol…"

"Or else?" Flirting with disaster was one of Sheila's favorite pastimes. She could not resist the temptation of testing how far Rayn was willing to threaten for what she wanted. However, the Icelander preferred to view the death threats as an occupational hazard, which came with the business.

"Let's just say you'll have an extremely short racing season…" Rayn answered. Eyes locked to Sheila's scrutinizing stare. Some choice methods to remove the competition were already crossing her mind; the most prominent involved a fiery explosion broadcasting from the track to up her ratings.

"Perhaps," Sheila thought about the proposition for a moment. A finger traced her pink lips. She had enough muscle on the streets to ensure her safety from a blaster shot in a dark alley. "But then your ratings would surely take a hit, don't get me wrong, my end would sky rocket viewings for a time. But what with all my devoted fans being so distraught with my death…" She waved a hand over her shoulder to the crowd below. "They're bound to loose any interest in the sport… I still don't see how we can both profit from this bargain…"

Rayn paused. She had not taken into consideration the lost crowd of speeder fans Sheila pulled behind her to combat racing. Taking the Icelander out of the season would cause the sport to lose ratings from the viewers and damage her income on all levels of business, legal or not. Compromise was inevitable for Rayn. "What do you want Sheila?" The question came out more as a scoff than an inquiry.

"Legalize speeder races," Sheila's eyes grew large from anticipation. Rayn's denial to her request was already clear as crystal; the woman would never agree to the infringement on her monopoly. Sheila only needed to hear it for herself. A hungry grin upturned the corners of her lips, wanting a reason to rebel against the rival gang leader.

"Never," Rayn stood. She did not need Sheila's allegiance so badly that she would doom the rest of her business. The notion of allowing speeders to race in her city inflamed her. As far as Rayn was concerned, Sheila had crossed the line and the business meeting over. Without another word, the business woman stalked off toward the stairs. Out of sheer pride against the insult, she held chin high and kept her eyes straight ahead.

Jak watched Rayn leave for a moment, mouth hanging open as he processed what had just taken place. Then he noticed the woman had stranded him in a foreign club with the owner right in front of him and he jumped up to catch up to Rayn. "What's so wrong with speeder racing?" Jak particularly enjoyed the fast pace sport, which was huge in Haven City. All that registered in his mind at the time though was that he had another person trying to kill him now, one more threat on the track and another gun pointed at his chest.

"Hey!" Sig cried as Rayn stormed down the steps, not even casting a glance in his direction. He had been in an intimate conversation with the woman guard, who he found was appropriately named Magenta, and watched in confusion while Rayn stomped toward the exit trailed by Jak. "Um," Sig gave an apologetic smile to Magenta. "I gotta run cherry blossom," Sig picked up his Peace Maker from against the wall and slung it onto his back. With another awkward smile, he pecked the Marauder on the lips, leaving her stunned. "Call me if you're ever in the neighborhood!" He vanished out the door.

"Magenta!" a voice sounded from above, startling the woman out of her daze. Sheila leaned over the balcony railing as she took in the sights of her thriving club and noticed the Wastelander and her friend from the Iceland getting cozy. "What exactly do you think you're doing carousing with the enemy?" Sheila gave the Marauder a serious look down the tip of her nose.

"Wha-?" Magenta stared up at Sheila, thunderstruck. Her mouth gawked in confusion as she looked from her boss to the door and back. "Enemy? I swear I didn't mean it! He came onto me!" She panicked, fearing betrayal of Sheila's trust.

"Forget it," Sheila smiled as she dismissed her friend's dismay with a flick of her wrist; she was only yanking the Marauder's chain. Breathing a long sigh, Sheila straightened to search the crowd for her pending accomplices. Razer was easily spotted in the same place she had left him, just maybe a little more bent into his drink. Cyan and Erol were harder to find. The woman had settled for the shadowed hallways beyond the far end of the bar, which led backstage, and waited for Erol to fight his way through the crowd.

The commander's patience was at an end. He had chased the blue woman through every corner of the nightclub when he finally caught up with her. Just seeing the way she leaned against the concrete wall in her leather and boot, eyes never leaving his gaze as he drew nearer. It made his pulse pound. Erol knew the running was over; she would not escape him now. His breathe deepened steadily as the heat rose from his veins with an animalistic lust, which only made the situation more enticing to the commander.

Cyan did not stir when Erol was only a hair's breath away from her, looming over her as she reclined in sinful grace against the cold wall. She only stared up into his blazing gold eyes as a hand instinctively found the bare flesh between the leather on her thigh. The commander had made the first move and Cyan slowly followed by undoing the buckles of his pants, tracing the lines of his pelvis into his groin as she peeled away the thick material.

The tension ebbed away into a longing throb as Erol stepped closer; placing himself between Cyan's spread boots. He raised his free hand to clasp the heavy zipper of the woman's corset and dragged it down to expose her breasts and flat stomach as he felt her do the same to his chest. The seconds lasted forever as they stood together but separate. Erol refused to break his gaze from Cyan's eyes for anything; after a while every woman's breasts began to look the same to him. Her stare, however, was a frozen mystery he had never encountered.

Hunger took the better of the commander's willpower away and he pounced. Amber eyes broke from ice as Erol closed the space which separated his body from Cyan's in one swift lunge. Gloved hand plunged up the woman's short skirt to rip away her thin underwear. In one deep thrust, Erol lifted Cyan off her heels as felt her thighs wrap around his hips and pushed her up the stone for support. The naked flesh of their chests pressed together; Erol's brandished teeth ran over her bare neck. He let his body fall into a deep rhythm with Cyan reaching farther into her with each tightening of her muscles.

Firm fingertips curled onto the commander's biceps and Cyan rolled her face skywards to give Erol all of her neck. Her eyes were closed and face peaceful in pleasure as she let him have his way; blue painted lips not even parting for breath. Beads of sweat made the flesh of the heaving chest slick. Erol relaxed into her as they continued, his tongue licking her salt soaked collar bone and traced a hand up her stomach to cup her breast in the palm of his hand, massaging with the motion of his body.

The commander took a fleetly inhale through grated teeth and pulled his lips from flesh as he came inside of Cyan with one deep thrust, driving them both against the heated concrete. In the high of the release, Erol let his sweat drenched brow follow the side of his partner's face and laid his cheek against hers. He could sense that the woman's countenance was still the same unaltered could composure it had been from the beginning just by the line of her jaw against his flesh. The fact annoyed him slightly. The commander had failed to break her marble mask of will, not yet at least. His jaw clenched as he slowly set Cyan back onto her feet, withdrawing to look into the calm, icy stare.

Only looking at Cyan frustrated Erol even more, she looked unimpressed by everything he had done to her. In truth, her face had 'that was your best shot?' written all over it. The look was practically as harsh as a slap across his cheek. Even though Erol understood the meaning of the expression, to add insult to injury, he did not see the lightning fast right hook to his jaw. Caught completely off guard, the commander seized the side of his face, a loathing snarl flashing his teeth at the woman. Cyan, however, stared right back at him with an indignant look of content as she rezipped her corset and stalked off, leaving Erol with his pants down.

From his spot at the bar, Razer chuckled to himself as he watched Cyan walk away from the bewildered commander. Erol deserved to be punched for cheating on him; though he was rather disappointed it was not him who threw it first. A vengeful smirk on his lips, the Northerner returned to leaning on the bar counter sipping his drink and smoking a cigarette. He knew Erol would come slinking back to him in one manner or another.

"It seems your commander is beginning to wander…" Sheila commented as she took an empty space beside Razer. Her eyes gazed beyond the Northerner to where Erol was gathering his composure. "Aren't you paying enough attention to him, or did he lose interest in you that quickly?"

Razer's good mood soured as he turned to Sheila, his appearance looked as if he had just swallowed a dose of bitter medicine. The Icelander did make a point, Erol was only too eager to play the field. "I thought I'd let him figure out the hard way how fickle women really are…" Razer blew a long cloud of smoke at Sheila. "I didn't know people were talking about us already, how exciting." He smiled satisfied at the news of gossips. Rumors always kept the boys at the garage on their toes, and Razer loved to watch them jump when he came near.

"Oh no," Sheila avoided Razer's smoke as she downed a glowing green shot the bartender placed before her. "People aren't talking yet. The jealousy on your face when Erol caught sight of Cyan was enough to clue any lowlife in on your relationship." She laughed at Razer's disappointed frown. "Listen, it's none of my business what goes on between you two, but I do know a way to improve the commander's good graces in your favor…" She reached beneath her black jacket to her belt and removed a small syringe, which glowed an eerie white in the blue light. "Consider it a peace offering between friends," Sheila declared, holding the needle before Razer to take.

"What is it?" He asked suspiciously, but his hand still reached out to clasp the white substance, turning it over in his yellow fingers. Through the leather of his gauntlets, a warm, soothing sensation was radiating from the glass into his fingertips. Whatever was inside possessed energy.

"Light Eco," Sheila stated, gazing proudly at the syringe, "guaranteed to make even the grizzliest Wastelander feel all warm and fuzzy inside. If anything can improve Erol's surly attitude, it's this. One night in paradise, perhaps?" She flashed a wicked grin as she watched the possibilities accumulate behind Razer's increasingly pleasant smile.

"Friends you said?" Razer asked lightly while he pocketed the needle into the deep fold of his red coat. If Sheila was really offering allegiance along with a miracle cure to Erol's anger problems, he was more than willing to accept. Not to mention the Icelander seemed to have plenty of other amenities he would not mind checking into, like the clinging twins he encountered earlier. "So does that mean Rayn's offer fell short?"

"It came out more a death threat and a denial than an offer, but yes…" She extended her hand to shake on the deal. Razer accepted and she gave a firm shake to prove her word was good. This would be a beginning of a beautiful partnership. Sheila had her foot in the door of combat racing, and with Razer and Erol's help, she planned to rip it off its hinges.

"Razer?" The commander barked as he appeared through the crowd beside the Northerner. His annoyance was still fresh in the corners of his self-control. Erol paused when he noticed Sheila withdrawing her hand to rest an elbow casually on the bar. "What's going on here?" Amber gaze eyed the Icelander; suddenly women were cast into distrust in his mind.

"Business deals," Razer scoffed. He was going to prod Erol's wounds of defeat until he was sure the commander was never going to forget the lesson he learned that night. "In case you might have forgotten we came here to make sure the wild card was ours." He folded his arms in an impish fashion and took a cocky drag on his cigarette, throwing his hip out as he surveyed Erol.

"My dear commander," Sheila broke in before Erol jumped Razer in her own club. Surely she did not need the two brawling on the countertop, no matter how entertaining it may become between the couple. "It appears that you and Razer had the better proposal on the grounds that my other offer could not deliver her end of the bargain. Looks like we have a deal." She took Erol's handshake this time with a triumphant smile.

"Good," Erol felt slightly better with the confidence boost of winning the deal. However, he was sick of being in the blue warehouse. His fingers itched to rev the throttle of his speeder. "Well, I suppose it's time for us to leave." He looked at Razer, waiting for the semi-sober Northerner to move.

"Hold on one minute," Sheila was also eyeing up Razer, but with the look of one sizing up a potential racer. "Ever consider racing speeders?" She asked; his skill at combat racing could make him a new threat in her sport too.

"Never," the Northerner shot back. He still would not lower himself to Sheila or Erol's standard of racing. He only raced real machines, with real dangers.

"We might have to change that," Sheila flicked her attention to Erol, who was looking back at her in thought. "Tomorrow, the Kras City circuit should do…" She turned to leave. "Night boys…" Sheila gave Razer a quick encouraging wink as she disappeared into the throng.

"Come on," Erol said, grabbing Razer's arm to lead him out of the club. He was fine with spending his free day on his speeder. He was not fine with staying a moment longer than necessary in the club; if he found Cyan there was no telling what he would do to the little wench. "We're leaving…"

"Don't think you're going to get me on one of those damn speeders," Razer said as he strode alongside Erol. The commander appeared to be ignoring him when he did not so much as glance at him. Razer scowled and gave the commander a once over. "You're fly's undone." That got Erol's attention and Razer smirked evilly as the commander fixed his pants with his free hand.

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**A/N: ** Wow, what a chapter... I have to admit there's alot of stuff going on it this one and it shows by the length... This is one of my favorite chapters so far; it has a bit of everything in it. A brand new rivalry, steamy back hallway scene and of course the classic underworld drug dealing. Wouldn't it be great to go to jail on Eco abuse? Send me some feedback and tell me what you liked! 


	12. Under the Influence

**Disclaimer: Does not own any of Jak&Dax  
**

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**Chapter 12: Under the Influence**

Razer stood with his arms crossed and his foot tapping in the center of the deserted street outside of the Blue Halo. He watched as Erol entered a code into the keypad for secret garage lift, sulking in his own thoughts. The Northerner shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and his fingers brushed over the needle of light eco Sheila gave him. Its warmth had spread to the inside of his pocket, making it a comfortable change from the chill of the night air. Razer turned the vial over in his hand with contemplation; the temptation gnawed at back of his mind.

Leaning a hand on the wall as the lift sorted for his speeder, Erol sighed and rapped his fingers on the stone building impatiently. He wanted to be out on the streets with the wind in his hair. Finally, his wish was granted when the lift raised his speeder from the underground and the commander pushed the bike out into the open, starting it with a low rumble of the engine. Erol threw a leg over the bike as Razer quietly came up beside him. Settling his hands on the handlebars and a foot on the peg, Erol nodded for the Northerner to mount and flicked down his racing mask. As soon as he felt Razer's weight firmly on the back of the speeder along with the man's arms wrapping around his waist, the commander hit the throttle.

Razer's second time on a speeder he knew what to expect, but that still did not prepare him for the sudden burst of acceleration, which came from Erol's over anxious need for speed. His arms instantly tightened around the commander's torso as the gained speed through the shadowed city. Slowly, Razer was able to loosen his vice grip as the speeder's acceleration leveled out and he grew more confident in the fact he would not tumble off with each hairpin bend. However, he kept his eyes fixed over Erol's shoulder into the blasting night air; he did not want any sudden turns to throw him. A gloved hand slithered back into his pocket to clasp the vial firmly in his palm, ready for the perfect moment to strike. Eyes flicked from the road to the bare flesh of Erol's neck just above his collar. The Northerner knew he would have to be lightning fast not to distract the commander too much and send them both crashing into a building wall or the ocean abyss. His moment came soon enough when they rounded a wide turn into a long straight on the bay front. Tightening his fist around the syringe, Razer gritted his jaw and struck with a cold precision.

Erol flinched beneath his mask as a sharp stabbing pain pierced his neck. A heat radiated from the sting and the painful sensation vanished almost as quickly as it happened. Some kind of bug, Erol shrugged off his wound as the warm burning iced over in a cool ripple from the night air. He had hit enough insects in his career to know even the smallest pest could leave a nasty bruise at such high speeds. The shock did awaken the commander from the dull anger that had clouded his thoughts, which seemed to become clearer as they sped along the water front. Breathing in the salty breeze, Erol eased the throttle slowly upwards towards the redline as he paved the way back to the garage, feeling more alive with each fresh inhale.

Razer, on the other hand, cursed inwardly at himself. As far as he could tell all the vial had been injected into Erol's flesh but he had underestimated the sheer power of the air at such speeds. The wind ripped the vial from his palm as soon as he withdrew. It had swept back over his shoulder to shatter somewhere on the asphalt behind them, yet not without first nicking Razer's cheekbone with the exposed needle. The cut was small, hardly noticeable, but he cold feel the potent effects of the light eco in it; a warm heat followed by a cool tingling. No matter, Erol did not seem to notice that the sting had been anything more than a large insect drifting in the night air. Razer wound his free arm around the vacant side of Erol's stomach and watched as the familiar sights of the racing district appeared.

The racing garage was dark and abandoned as Erol pulled in through the open hanger doors. Only the moon light illuminated the lifeless cars and their lifts in a murky blue. The air was quiet and still. The feeling was contagious and the calm seemed to sink right through Erol's skin to the marrow of his bones. The usual fire inside of his chest had been doused by a wet veil, which now weighed heavy on his heart. The whole consciousness would have sickened the commander to his deepest loathing of such a display of weakness, but something was preventing him from doing so. Instead, he could only slowly dismount his speeder and slide his red-lens mask back on his forehead. His amber eyes gazed solemnly into the shadows.

Razer eased himself off the back of the speeder, green stare fixed on Erol's expression. The light eco was obviously having some effect on Erol's nature. He did not want any sudden shock to shatter the passive spell that had descended upon the commander. When the soled of his tan leather boots were planted firmly on the ground, Razer was able to give his full focus to comprehending the look on Erol's face as the man stood silently in the gloom. Sadness mingled with loneliness dominated without the fury to hide them; it was almost as if Erol regretted returning to the confines of his apartment above the garage. Razer could not blame him. He understood the less than luxurious conditions drivers faced being so far from home, and the long cold nights as well.

"You know," Razer remarked softly, still gazing intently at Erol's unmoving tattooed profile, "There's always room for you at my place." No reaction, Razer was beginning to think Sheila might have tricked him. "That is if you ever get tired of cold showers and dirty bed sheets." Razer shrugged nonchalantly and whipped a cigarette and lighter from his belt.

The flame cast and eerie glow in the air, breaking Erol's blank stare to refocus his amber eyes over his shoulder to the light. As quickly as it came, the flame disappeared with a metallic snap, leaving only the smoldering ember at the tip of Razer's drag. In one long inhale, emerald eyes met amber with the orange light before dying out behind wisps of smoke. The ember dropped away and Erol watched the silhouette of Razer drift away to a black mass, followed by the roaring of his Howler 99's engine as he drove off into the city.

Erol sighed and hung his head. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, bringing enough life into his limbs to give him the will to push his speeder to its place beside his Road Blade. Looking around at the empty hanger, the commander could not shake the feeling of isolation that crept around him like the shadows. Normally his pride and temper were enough to protect him from the ravages of loneliness, which were far worse than any other torture her could imagine, but tonight his defenses had deserted him. He was left barren and exposed to the cold world.

A shiver ran up his spine as Erol climbed the narrow steps to his apartment. In all his years, he could not remember feeling so detached as he did walking the corridor of blank doors. The paper thin walls let every sound from within eco out to the hallway, plaguing his ears. Part of him wondered if not knowing the identities of each voice would have made it any less painful to bear. From the low snores of Sig's deep sleep to hushed whispers of Torn and Ashelin, even the stifled snickers of Daxter, all scraped against Erol's mind like nails to a chalkboard. Each doorway he passed was another invisible blow as images of their occupants happy lives flashed before his inner eye.

A ghostly hand rested on a rusted doorknob. The commander half expected his body to pass straight though the solid portal; he no longer seemed to walk but drift through the air. He felt sick, but the ache was not in his stomach or his head. It was in the core of his chest. A lead weight pulled him down while the strength of his arms and legs felt as weak as the air he breathed through parted lips. Hollow amber eyes took in the sparse cell he called home; a single window letting in the blue rays of moonlight.

Casting aside his racing mask, Erol floated to the dirty panes, clutching the sill for support. In the window, a specter stared back at the commander. It had gray tattoos lining its face and fiery orange hair just like Erol, but his expression was somber and lost. The commander closed his eyes to the vision and pressed his forehead to the cool glass, letting the cold clear the mist that fogged his mind. What was happening to him? The passion he ruled his life by had vanished from him.

Erol did not know how long he stood with his forehead pressed to the grim-streaked window, minutes, maybe hours, until the only thing he knew were the deep inhales of his lungs and the beating of his heart. After a time, he heard another rhythm. This time it came from the hallway outside with staggering footsteps and hushed voices. The noise grew closer and Erol could tell it was a man and a woman by the pitch of their chuckles, both stone drunk. The commander compressed his eyelids tighter together against the intrusion. A door banged open, so loud it could have been right beside Erol, and a scuffle of bodies falling over one another, preceded by another round of dazed giggles.

"Jak!" a high gasp made Erol's teeth clench. He recognized Keira's voice anywhere. There was once a time when he would have risked life and limb on the track to hear her say his name like that. Those days were long gone. She had taken up sides with the dark eco freak Jak in one of the worse possible ways and now she was just another name on Erol's long list of enemies.

The laughter ceased. The silence was far more horrible than anything Erol could have dreamed, and he pressed his forehead farther into the pane trying to drive out the visions that haunted him. Soft moans grated his ears. His fingers dug into the rotting wood of the sill as he drove his face against the glass, biting the inside of his lip. The torture of hearing the low chorus of his enemy's love struck with the pain of a thousand experimentations; a poison that sank deeper than dark eco itself. Erol realized at that very moment, he was utterly alone in the universe.

A sharp crack broke Erol's agonizing trance, causing him to stagger back from the window. Spider webs of white lines stretched out from the point were the force of his forehead had fractured the window pane. A fresh wave of love struck out cries washed over him; Erol seized his temple more from mental anguish than physical as his eyes adjusted to the reality of the room around him. In swift strides, the commander gathered his belongings into his only bag. He would not submit himself to stay another moment in such a prison. Reclaiming his mask from its place on the floor, Erol slipped out of the door and down the hallway, eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to look back.

Jumping the last few steps into the garage, the commander's spiked boots pounded on the concrete floor. His veins pulsed with a new purpose: to leave behind the misery and for once in his life, move on from the past. Any other time he would have called "moving on" running away from the problem. Keira was not a problem; Jak was. She was merely an old flame that refused to die, and tonight Erol was determined to snuff it out for good.

The commander ripped his speeder from the wall with newfound strength, whipping it round to face the open road. He slung the strap of his duffle bag across his chest and straddles the bike in a single motion. A self righteous smirk lit up his amber eyes. Erol knew exactly where he was going, but it was the journey ahead which set his senses on edge. Firing up the throttle to his speeder for the third time that night, he streaked away from the dingy garage in the direction of the Bloody Hook.

While the rest of the city slept, Erol speed past the darkened clubs in a blur. Even though he had been beneath the bulk of Razer the first time, he could still trace the route by the turns and straights and soon found himself slowing before the familiar alleyway. He looked above to see only unlit windows. Hesitation flirted with his determination, but he was not turning back to endure the torments of his imagination. Erol drew a deep breath and walked his speeder into the side street, hiding it in the shadows next to the entrance stoop. Closing his eyes from a passing wave of disgrace, the commander gave a hard rap on the wood door.

From the flat above, the knock awakened Razer from his sleeping spell. He had taken up residence on a pillow laden futon with a brandy glass in his hand an empty ashtray by his side. Somehow over the course of time, the ashtray had been filled by wasted cigarette remains and the empty glass had traveled from his grasp to the end table beside the ashtray. Another knock and Razer realized there was a half finished drag clasp between the fingers that supported his temple. The Northerner blinked groggily and straightened. He was still in his racing outfit, which brought a grimace of disgust over his daze at the neglect of personal hygiene.

The knocks grew into heavy pounds as Razer trudged down the stairs. At first he could not think who would be calling for him in the middle of the early morning hours, unless it was Edje or Shiv looking to get out of trouble; he hated having to protect his subordinates from their drunken mistakes. Then he remembered his offer to Erol. The drowsiness ceased instantly with a fresh spike in Razer's pulse. After a moment's pause, a gloved hand turned the doorknob as another round of pounds sounded.

The door swung open to reveal Erol standing in front of the Northerner. However, Razer could tell immediately that something was terribly wrong with the commander just by the way he stood in the doorway. He looked like a man defeated. Razer expected to see two amber gems staring into his; instead Erol's gaze wandered up to the Northerner's from the ground as he leaned on the door jam for support. "Precursors…" Razer whispered under his breath. Erol looked like a ghost of himself outlined in the shallow rays. Perhaps he had gone too far in trying to change the commander.

"Don't look at me like that…" Erol's voice was far more stable than his outward appearance. Rolling his eyes upwards to Razer's shocked stare, he regained enough confidence to muster an exhausted version of annoyance rather than a usual wave of loathing. The last thing he wanted was pity for his current condition. He peeled himself from the outside wall to push his way past Razer and up the stairs to the flat, footsteps sounding with low thuds up the narrow passage. "I'm taking a shower…" he stated blankly, tossing his duffle bag to the floor in front of the sofa. At that moment in time, Erol could have cared less about his contempt; he just longed for a warm shower and a place to rest his head.

Razer followed without a word of protest. His expectations had been stripped bare for the time being. He could not help but think how he was to blame for whatever Erol went through before he appeared at Razer's doorstep. However, the commandeered seemed to be shaking off his previous depression. The Northerner noticed the duffle bad on the floor and traced the path to the open bathroom door where Erol was peeling off his layer of thick armor. "Erol," Razer composed himself back to his natural ease, "Why did you come here?" He planted his half used cigarette onto the top of the ashtray pile.

"You invited me remember?" Erol replied unfazed. He would never tell the real reason he came to Razer's flat, particularly the fact he did not even give a second thought to taking up residence with the Northerner. Furthermore, the commander was a seasoned veteran at avoiding answers and improvising lies if necessary. Erol gazed to the living room to meet only with Razer's emerald eyes looking intently back from the portal. "Besides, cold showers are overrated." The commander kept his stare fixed on Razer as he stripped off his racing pants and casually slid behind the glass pane of the shower.

A sinister smirk of delight played in the corner of Razer's lips. He was willing to take all his prior judgments of the Sheila's drug back. Up rooting himself from his stance in the bathroom door, Razer strode into his bedroom undoing his red race coat and tossed it aside along with his powder blue undershirt. He wandered back into the bathroom and perched himself on the side of a large porcelain tub, turning the hot water on as he watched his new roommate through the steamed glass. Cold showers were overrated; Razer smiled at the blatant tease. He kicked off his boots and tan pants as he stood to walk to the sliding panel.

Erol ignored the sounds of the shower door opening and continued to let the hot rain of water wash away the lather from his tattooed skin. Not until he felt a hand on his chiseled stomach and the soft body of Razer press up against his back did the commander allow his eyes to pone even the slightest bit. "You missed a spot," a low purr whispered in his ear as the Northerner rested his cheek against the side of Erol's face. A gentle hand pulled the bar of soap from his palm and began to massage slow circles over his torso and chest with it. Erol's eyelids fell shut and his damp head rolled back onto Razer's should as the taller man littered the redhead's neck with soft kisses.

All the while Razer's palm, traced every line of the commander's body. Curling his free hand around Erol's hip, he ran his palm around to Erol's back and eased the object of his affection around to face him so their chests pushed together with Razer's empty hand now resting on the small of Erol's back. The Northerner leaned out to kiss the commander's closed lip as he rubbed a fresh lather over the others muscled shoulder blades. Razer's heart nearly melted when his kiss was met with an equal response from the man in his arms. At that point, Razer was content to walk away from the situation, knowing Erol had kissed him back wholeheartedly and of his own free will. Breaking away from the commander, Razer took only split second to see the man hanging on the high of expectation before pulling away completely. He set the bar of soap on its rack and grabbed a bottle of bubble bath beside it. The Northerner was satisfied, how the rest of the night played out would depend on Erol. With one small kiss, Razer stepped out of the shower.

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**A/N**: Yes, yes, yes... I am aware this is a bit of a cliffhanger... Thought I'd save some of my naughty ideas to scatter amongst the rest of the fic... This chapter was playing off the fact of Erol's involvement with the Dark Warrior program and how light eco would balance Erol back into normality... Not too pleasant right? I kno we all love our angry Erol and I think Razer's learned a valuable lesson of "be careful what you wish for". He's lucky, this time he got a happy ending... 


	13. Competitive Nature

**Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter Series is owned by Naughty Dog **

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**Chapter 13: Competitive Nature**

The morning sun poured through the dusty windows of Razer's bedroom, casting a soft glow on the walls and floor. Razer, somewhere between dreams and consciousness, nuzzled his face farther into Erol's ginger hair, a serene smile spread over his face. One night in paradise was something he refused to let go of. Inhaling the scent of Erol's shampoo, he wrapped his arms tighter around the commander's waist, pulling him closer to Razer's body. The Northerner could feel the warmth that radiated from the man's skin and drifted back into his slumber.

Razer's moments stirred Erol from his own sleep. His amber eyes flickered as they focused on the bedroom. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, looking back on the previous night gave only dim memories to what had taken place. He remembered returning to the garage, the horrible ache in his chest, the splintered window, the low moans and driving off into the night, then finally Razer. Razer, the thought brought him back to reality. He was instantly aware of the Northerner's clinging grasp on his stomach and chest. Peeling himself away as gently as possible, Erol slid out of the downy bed sheets to look down at his lover, who after a second's upset rolled onto his chest settling for a pillow rather than Erol's head. Erol sighed. It was too late now, the damage was already done. All Erol could do now was come to terms that he had officially moved in with Razer, what had he been thinking! Rolling his eyes with irritation at his own stupidity, the commander stalked out of the room to find his clothes.

Reawaking to nothing but his own comforter, Razer heaved himself up onto one elbow to examine his room, blinking sleep from his eyes. Outside the door, Erol was fully dressed in yellow and navy armor, which still bore an old Krimzon Guard insignia. "Where are you going?" He asked blankly, jaw hanging open slightly from confusion. Then he recalled something about meeting Sheila on the Kras City circuit and those infernal speeders. "You really think that bitch will be out at this hour in the morning?" Razer could tell it was still early just from the patches of light on his wall.

"Please," Erol scoffed as he zipped up his jacket, "I wouldn't expect her to crawl out of whatever hole she call home until late afternoon. I'm going to the garage. Somebody has to repair the damage on my car…" He sneered when the recollection of Keira repairing his speeders back in Haven City came to mind. "Unlike you, I refuse to sit around all day preening…" With that, Erol turned on his heel and headed out the door.

To this Razer gave a low growl at Erol's retreating back. He knew the commander had a point. His racer had a number of things to be fixed before the Qualifier, but he denied all notions of spending a whole day "preening". Just because his appearance was fabulous all the time did not mean he spent his off days at a spa, though once in a while was pleasant. Razer shot a final nasty glare and buried his face in his feather pillow.

"This ain't so bad is it Jak?" Daxter hopped up onto the roll cage of their new Dragonfly. Courtesy of Rayn, the demolition duo's Basher had been speedily replaced by the smaller and nimbler racecar. "I mean last year this time we would have been up to our chests in Yakow dun if we'd have totaled." The fuzzy Ottsel was trying to look on the brighter side of the crash, despite the face they were low on cash, and seeing Jak was still quieter than usual. "So, uh, how'd that 'meeting' go that Rayn wanted you and Sig to come along with?" He took another stab as striking up a conversation that might find what was bothering his best friend.

"Not good Dax," Jak shook his head and busied himself by grabbing a clean rag and a can of wax. "Rayn refused to even negotiate with Sheila. She literally handed away the wild card advantage to Razer and Erol." The blonde gave a sour expression at the thought and began buffing the hood of his car. "I mean, honestly, how much of a difference would legalizing speeder races make in a town like this?" He still did not understand why she was so against the sport when Kras City was founded on the back of combat racing.

"Because then Rayn would lose her monopoly over competitive racing as a whole," Torn's low growl emerged from behind the rear of the Dragonfly as he walked over to join Jak and Daxter's conversation. "Don't you see that when we destroyed Mizo last season, Rayn took over as the leading crime boss in Kras City, meaning she controls the officials, media and all the other areas of combat racing."

"Yeah? What's your point wise guy?" Daxter leaned on the roll cage bar as he looked down at Torn. To this day, Daxter always thought the ex-guard tried a little too hard to be mysteriously dramatic with his knowledge. Quiet frankly, Orange Lightning liked to sass him right back with his own antics.

"My point is that if Sheila gets her way with the law, then Rayn would have competition for the public eye," Torn explained the situation like it was old news, ignoring Daxter's attitude. "The media would be cut in half. If people had a newer, more dangerous sport to watch, combat racing would fall on the back burner and Rayn would end up losing big money. Now, I dunno about you, but would any crime boss actually let that happen to their business?" Torn folded his arms as he ended his argument, leaning on the side of the racer.

"Nothing wrong with a bit of friendly competition now, is there?" Jak liked the idea of mixing things up. Mizo's finally words about Rayn were as clear as if it happened the other day: "She'll betray you… She'll become even worse than me." So far Rayn seemed reliable enough. She had provided him with a new racer and kept Razer and Erol on as tight a leash she could, but then he did have another gun off the track to keep an eye on from Sheila. His worries were interrupted, however, by the familiar sounds of a speeder zooming through the garage door. Jak instantly recognized Erol in his mask and uniform. "Wait, doesn't Erol stay here at night?" He blurted out noticing all eyes were on the commander's arrival.

"I bet you a million orbs he had a little 'sleepover' with Razer last night," Daxter poked. He had no idea about the extent of the two enemies relationship, but then he played off the fact Razer's history with men was more than just casual. When he saw the disgusted groans of Jak and Torn, Daxter merely chuckled to himself.

At the other end of the hanger, Erol dismounted his speeder to set immediately to the task of mending the damage Sig's grenades had caused. He had not been tinkering more than an hour when the hum of a second speeder met his ears. Looking up from the main thruster, he saw a black, barbed speeder cruise into the main stretch. Erol knew Sheila's speeder when he saw it and went back to hammering the metal turbo flaps back into their original position. His undisturbed work did not last long when the Icelander's think heeled boots appeared in the corner of his eye and a slim shadow passed across his already dim light. "What do you want Sheila?" Somehow he expected a nagging reminder about teaching Razer to race later.

"I was having an ingenious idea and I thought I would get your opinion on it…" Sheila replied lightheartedly. Seeing that Erol was not going to stop his work on her behalf, she stooped to sit beside the ginger, propping herself against one of the rear wheels. A small smile of pride was spread on her thin carved face as she rested casually with an elbow on her raised knee.

"You? Having an 'ingenious idea'?" Erol gave a rather hard bang on a stubborn panel with his sledge hammer. "What's next? Let me guess, Jak's fan club turning against him?" He spared a moment to shoot a sarcasm-laden snarl at Sheila.

"Ew, harsh," Sheila cooed. "Did somebody wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" A delighted sneer flashed her pearly white teeth. She could tell the after effects of her own drug as clear as crystal, mainly because Erol was not his usual icy self. "But you're not far off from why I wanted to talk with you…" She paused just to make sure Erol was paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth.

Amber eyes rolled up to glare at the self-confident woman. His sarcastic side had submerged beneath a deep iron-cast mask of loathing. "And how could you possibly know any more about destroying Jak than me?" After six years of obsessing over Jak's final end, Sheila thought she could take over and call the shots? The Dark Eco freak's death was going to be his shining moment, nobody else's.

"You did ask for my help getting rid of the kid," Sheila gave a puppy-dog that mocked a little girl looking innocent after being caught breaking into the cookie jar. "Really, after all those ago in Haven City you remember little ol' me. And to think, I can still recall you as a fresh, young Krimzon Guard recruit ready for glory as the up and coming NYFE poster boy." She could not resist a sentimental smile at the trip down memory lane, a hand resting on her heart in a clear ridicule of the memory.

"Glory that you took when you left racing the second season for that ice rock of a home," Erol spat. He remembered his first year winning his way to the top of the racing circuit only to have Sheila snatch the final victory away in the last moments of the class 1 race. "I would have beaten you and you know it! Retirement, ha! You ran off with your tail between your legs like a dog-"

"Bitch," Sheila corrected, slicing through Erol's boastful complaints with her own harden expression. The pleasantries had vanished with the flaring of the commander's temper. "I know when to walk away, which is something you seem incapable of doing. Don't think I didn't see you careen into those barrels of eco a few years back when Jak stole your title… I still have my legacy as the one of the greatest female champions, and what will people remember you as? The Krimzon Guard commander who lost his temper and blew himself up by driving into a pile of dark eco!" Her bitter words fell into silence. The two champions were only inches away from each other, glaring as a past rivalry resurfaced from what seemed to be another lifetime. Locked in a staring contest, amber and sapphire both refused to break it first.

"Am I interrupting something?" A broad shadow passed over Erol and Sheila, making them simultaneously look up to see Razer standing impatiently with a hand on his hip and a cigarette raised in the other. "Forgive me if I've broken up an otherwise heartfelt moment…" His tone was laced with poison in an air that clearly showed his disdain for how close Sheila and Erol were to each other.

Even if Erol could not tell, Sheila received Razer's message loud and clear. Razer spoke in an international language all women were fluent in, attitude, and he was obviously saying "get away from my man" at that moment. Not wanting to set a match to the powder keg she had spilt between her new partners and herself, Sheila slowly rose to her feet and brushed off the dirt from her jacket and pants. Then, gazing Razer firmly in the eye, she answered. "Heartfelt moments are for friends," she glanced down to Erol, "not for old rivals…" Sheila gave one last stare into Razer's emeralds to make her own message loud and clear, "it will never happen", before striding boldly away down the garage center.

"Old rivals, hmm?" Razer understood Sheila well enough to know she would not be a threat to his own relationship with Erol. That assurance, however, did nothing to shed any light on the two's past. Even thought he heard most of Erol and Sheila's conversation, Razer could not tell if their connection remained strictly on the track or extended beyond it. "I take it she left you… unsatisfied?" He knelt down to bring himself to Erol's eye level, but the commander had gone back to his pounding on the panels.

"Unsatisfied? Older women aren't my type…" Erol gave a resounding bang to the metal. "They're too strong minded to manipulate and they're always looking for ways to stir up trouble…" Erol glanced up at Razer, who had a look of interest on his face. "She did have a fling with Baron Praxis, but that was before half of his face was ripped off in a metal head attack. I always saw her for what she really is…" Erol smirked evilly as he gazed past the Northerner down the rows of cars, "a two-faced Marauder who would do anything to make sure she wins one way or another…"

Razer lifted a brow and glanced over his own shoulder. Sheila was staring right back at them, a devious expression glittering in the dusty light. The smirk was contagious, and Razer could not help but think that if Sheila wanted Rayn's operation to fall apart and Jak was Rayn's top driver, then Jak was her new target for destruction. Erol had been right; Sheila was just the distraction they needed.

Breaking her unspoken pact with Erol and Razer, Sheila sauntered casually over to the blonde who had buffed his way to a side panel of his Dragonfly. "It's a real shame that a driver like you should have to drive a girl's car…" Sheila began solemnly, running her fingers over a polished fender as she came to lean on it next to Jak. "One you think with all the money Rayn pulls in she could have gotten you a new Basher, but then you probably have a good bit stowed away, being the Kras City racing champion and all… Don't you Jak?"

Up until Sheila approaching him, Jak had been able to work in peace. Torn had gone to tend to his own vehicle while Daxter had scuttled off to find Tess. He did not mind being alone; it gave him time to mull over the information Torn had given him and making Sheila's appearance all the more ironic. "You'd be surprised how fast money disappears nowadays." Despite the fact she was probably aligned with Erol and Razer, Jak found himself easily able to accept Sheila's laid-back conversation.

"What a pity," Sheila continued. Her goal was set clear in her mind and she refused to get too far sidetracked with her chatter. "You know it was pretty impressive how you beat Erol in the Class 1 races a couple years back. You're fearless when it comes to a speeder… Haven't seen anything like that since I retired as NYFE champion." She was hoping her own past in the sport would strike some common ground between them.

"You were in the NYFE?" Jak paused from his waxing to get a better look at the Icelander. As far as he knew, Erol had been the reigning champion years before he came along, and Sheila did not look to be much older than Erol himself.

"A long time ago," Sheila smiled. "I managed to get out before Erol could steal my title, never really let that fact go it you ask me…" She chuckled and grinned a little wider. Jak attention was hooked, now all she needed to do was reel him in. "Listen, I dunno if I can get you a new Basher, but I do know a way you can earn some cash outside of combat racing. Maybe get your girlfriend something nice…"

Sheila had hit a nerve. An engagement ring, that was what Jak needed to get Keira to say yes to his proposal. Besides, the payoff from racing was not nearly as much as some of the expenses caused by it; extra cash was always a good thing. "You're inviting me to street race speeders?" He had no problem with the fact speeder races were illegal and Rayn, what she did not know could not hurt her.

"Tonight, after dark on the Kras City circuit?" Sheila lit up with delight. When Jak nodded she continued, "Excellent, I'm sure Erol will be dying to race you on my track, but if you ask me… I think he's getting his hopes up…" She shook hands with the blonde, who had a dark glint in his eye, and set off to see to her own blue Dragonfly.

"You know," the voice of Daxter floated lightly from beside Jak as he watched the Icelander leave. "After skulking through the sewers of Haven City doing Krew's dirty work to out racing sandstorms in the Wasteland while avoiding Marauders to getting us all nearly poisoned, shot, and BLOWN UP in these races… I think it's safe to say that you are COMPLETELY SUICIDAL!" Daxter screamed the phrase at the top of his tiny lungs, bouncing with an uncontrolled fit of panic. "HAVE YOU TOTALLY LOST YOUR MIND!? She wants us dead! D-E-A-D! DEAD! Just like-" Daxter never finished his sentence. The rag Jak had been using to wax his car instead found a new home inside the small Ottsel's large mouth.

"Alright!" Daxter gasped as he ripped the rag out, sputtering and trying to claw the wax off his tongue. "But this is on the D. L.!" He pointed the piece of clothe at Jak in a threatening manner, looking like a rabid squirrel. "You hear me! Nobody must know! Or we're both getting out asses served up to Rayn on a silver platter!" Daxter collapsed on his thick tail with exhaustion, his chest heaving up and down as he gazed hopelessly up at Jak.

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**A/N: ** Finally! Finished... Felt like this chapter took forever to get out... Lucky 13, guess it must have been a combination of writing slump and the release of Deathly Hallows. Good old HP Number 7 is already filling my head with other fanfic ideas... I managed to fend them off and now I think I'm back and swinging! Another transition chapter but i greatly enjoyed all the lovely connections and background history in this one! Please drop a Review... I know there are more people than just RavenPaine and AJMS reading... Thank You both for sticking by me! 


	14. A Lesson In Racing

**Disclaimer: Jak and Dax Series is owned by Naughty Dog. **

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**Chapter 14: A Lesson In Racing**

"No," Razer stood in the center of the Kras City circuit track with his arms crossed and a fresh cigarette between his fingers. In the late afternoon sun, his composure was that of a solid marble statue, full of resolve and a glimmer of challenge in his narrowed emerald eyes as he followed the pacing Erol's movements. Between them the commander's speeder sat like an immovable wall. "I'm not going to race a speeder," Razer stated bluntly, "and save your pathetic threats for somebody who really cares…" The Northerner cut off Erol as the redhead turned to speak, only to close his lips and glare at the black haired man.

"We should have realized Erol," Sheila's voice called over the low hum of three speeders that were pulling in beside the pair. Sheila, with her hair falling around her spiked deathtrap bike from a single horsetail dismounted along with Cyan, who rode a slim electric blue craft which matched the tint of her short locks, and Magenta on a large maroon cruiser. "He's hiding behind he precious reputation as one of the 'deadliest'," the Icelander put extra emphasis on the word by making quotes in the air with her fingers, "combat racing drivers around. He thinks it's beneath him to really risk his life on the track by racing a speeder."

The manner in which Sheila folder her arms and tossed out her hip to give Razer a presumptuous glare made the Northerner think for a split second he was looking in the mirror at a feminine version of himself. Her mimicry was an invisible slap in the face, causing the corner of his lip to curl upwards in an equally conceited jeer. "Risk?" Razer chuckled. "What kind of risk is there to a sport whose vehicles don't even have submachine guns? All it is, is flying around the track a couple of time to show who as the bigger engine. There's no challenge once you've left the competition behind, no obstacles, no danger." Razer smiled and took a puff on his drag, blowing a thick cloud of smoke between him and the others.

"Really? No challenge?" Sheila glanced over at Erol, whose amber stare was locked onto Razer as if he meant for the Northerner to suddenly be struck down dead by his cold glare. "Then you won't mine showing me a forty-five second lap on the track." She seized the keys out of the speeder in front of her and threw them at Razer. "I'm sure that wouldn't be too much of a 'challenge' since there are no 'obstacles' on the course. Just make sure you don't slam into a wall at those high speeds."

Razer caught the keys in his vacant fist only inches away from hitting his nose. He glanced skeptically from the ring in his hand to the speeder and back to Sheila with a raised eyebrow and a humored smirk. "Impossible," Razer chucked the keys right back at Sheila, who snatched them out of the air as easily as he had. "Nobody can get under forty-seven point sixty-three. That's the record my Havoc V12 set in the time trials before my retirement… Even I haven't been able to beat that time, and I'm pretty sure this bucket of bolts doesn't have the power to even get under a minute." Razer knew Erol was fast on the speeder but this time he knew they were dreaming; he knew the Kras City track like the back of his hand.

"Time trials you say?" Sheila spun on her heel to Cyan. While Razer, Erol and Sheila bickered, the other two had busied themselves preparing for an evening of racing. Magenta had gone off on her speeder patrolling for law enforcement, leaving Cyan to sit casually on the side of the track, a portable control board tapped into the main wiring board of the track. "Cyan? Can you set up Time Trials?" Cyan flashed a thumbs-up, never breaking her rapid typing on the keyboard as it glowed in the rising dusk. "Excellent, Erol?" She tossed him the keys. "Show Razer how it's done…" She smiled self-assuredly.

"With pleasure," Erol shot Razer a smug smirk and settled himself on the speeder, flicking down his mask and firing up the ignition. Ahead of them, the banner projectors raised and blue eco turbos materialized along the length of the track. On the side lines, Cyan hacked though the main frame computer and initialed the countdown, which appeared on both the hollow gram and the various spectator screens around the start line.

The banner flashed green and Erol took off in a blur of yellow down the straight into the first bend. Razer and Sheila were left behind in a blast of air that took Razer by surprise with its force. The commander had vanished in a blink of an eye while Sheila stood with a satisfied expression as she gazed at the Northerner, eyebrows raised. "Don't worry rookie," she teased as her hair resettled around her, "he'll be back shortly…" She stuffed her fingers into her jacket pockets and wandered back to the side of the wide track where Cyan sat atop the bridge wall.

Left standing in the center of the track, there was not much else for Razer to do but follow Sheila's lead in the distance he could still catch the sound of the speeder on the ocean breeze. Razer dropped his skeptical composure and his finished cigarette with an exasperated sigh. He crushed the filter beneath the sole of his boot as he strode over to Sheila, who was leaning on the wall gazing at the screen that sat on Cyan lap. "How did you do that?" Razer asked as he caught sight of Erol on the track monitor. The commander's time and position on the track were in the upper corners of it. Glancing at the computer in Cyan's grasp, he could see the blue and white ribbons of code and text running across the screen along with various other statistics.

"Sorry dear," Sheila rounded back to Razer on her other side. "I'm afraid that's a trade secret until we get legalized. See, not even I can crack all the firewalls the Kras City racing commission has set up, but Cyan here is one of the finest hackers I've ever met." Sheila grinned with pride. "Not to mention ruthless on and off the track…" She gave a side glance to the blue Marauder, who was still rapping her fingertips methodically on the keyboard and paying no attention toward Sheila's boasting for her. "I met her and Magenta when I went back to the Icelands after I retired from Haven's NYFE circuit. With my experience and Cyan's skill on a mainframe along with Magenta to be our muscle, we've managed to set up a pretty sweet gig in this town…"

Razer was taken slightly aback by Sheila's open confidence at her success. For a moment he forgot that the woman was jeopardizing the whole stability of combat racing and possibly his whole future as a driver and returned Sheila's smile with a quizzical half smirk of his own. He was having trouble grasping the concept that the youthful porcelain face of the Icelander before him had lived long enough to become a champion, retire and form her own underground movement. The thought was almost cruel compared to his own age he tried so hard to conceal at times.

The Northerner's train of thought was broken when the sounds of a speeder fast approaching pulled the two's attention from each other and up to the winding bridge. Erol was no more than a streak as he sped past where they sat and over the finish line. Razer glanced up to the track board, which was playing a recording of the run with the time of forty-four point seventy-seven. The Northerner's jaw hung and his upper lip curled in repulsion. He was only vaguely aware of Sheila asking "still thinking this sport's for kiddies?" along with a pat on his back prior to striding away to meet Erol back at the finish line.

"Hey fruit loop," Erol pried Razer's attention from the screen to see him and Sheila with the speeder and banner ready for another run. "It's your turn." A threatening glint as being kindled behind Erol's golden stare, which complimented the sublet up turn in the corner of the commander's mouth. "Unless, that is, you still think it's too hard…" His voice dripped with sympathetic scorn as he jingled the speeder keys in the air like a cat toy.

That was the final straw for Razer. Setting his jaw and returning Erol's gaze with a narrowed glare of his own, he mustered up enough pride to saunter across the track and snatch the dangling keys from the commander's fingers. He threw his leg over the waiting speeder just as Erol had done. It only took a moment for Razer to find the ignition and settled his left glove on the handle as he started the engine. The speeder roared to life; the sudden power that vibrated through his hand and up his arm made the Northerner hesitate. An unprotected feeling crept up Razer's spine when he realized there was no roll cage for this ride around the track. He had no steel bars and sheet metal to separate him and all too mortal body from the unforgiving asphalt.

"Now you do know how to drive one of these things, right?" Razer looked up from the ignition to see Sheila leaning over the front blade of the speeder. With any other girl the Northerner would have had an eyeful, but the Icelander's racing coat was buttoned tightly over any view a man's vision could catch, leaving only her slender neck and face to look at. Her countenance was a step below Erol's; treating him more like a child on his first bike than a baby. Razer swallowed what pride her had when he considered that the woman was not far from the truth. "Throttle is your right hand. Clutch is left hand and foot. Brake is right foot. Just remember to lean into the turns."

Razer gulped as Sheila gave him one last grin and stepped aside. Resting his right hand on the throttle and placing his feet on the pegs, he drew a deep inhale and braced himself. His wrist snapped on the handle and suddenly Razer sped down the straight with the wind blowing full force against his body.

"I'll give him a half an hour," Sheila said as she watched Razer's red jacket disappear along the first bend of the track. Glancing over to Erol, she saw the commander was staring back at her with a raised orange brow. Sheila took his silence with her own dose of pessimism. "You can use my speeder tonight…" She tapped her foot sullenly at the thought of paying for whatever damage Razer may inflict to Erol's speeder. "So," she eagerly jumped on a new topic, "how was last night?" The Icelander flashed a wide, overly-optimistic smile in hope of hiding her anguish of a repair bill.

The redhead's expression iced over before Sheila's eye. From what Erol knew of body language, he understood that the question had no hidden meaning just from her obnoxious grin, but that fact did not stop him from glaring daggers at the woman. He refused to justify the question with an answer and instead stalked right past her to lean on the wall beside Cyan. Ignoring the track monitor, he focused his attention on the ground, arms crossed over his chest. He had only himself to blame for the past night's pitfall. The only thing he wanted at the moment more than Razer driving headlong into a wall, however, was seeing Jak crash in a blazing inferno at the night's speeder race. Beside him, Cyan's constant rapping of keys made Erol glance up from his plotting to the computer screen and the Marauder's face. The woman was completely oblivious to him. Erol sighed and returned to staring at the pavement, brooding over how he was going to impose as much pain into his young nemesis as possible without ending the boy's life too soon.

Out in the middle of the start line, Sheila shrugged off Erol's cold shoulder and gave herself a quirky little simper of amusement. Judging by the commander's silence, Razer had tried out her peace offering with fortunate results on the Northerner's account. The idea was just enough to drive off her previous expense anxieties. Scuffing her boots along the asphalt with her hands folded behind her back, Sheila set off wandering down the road to see how far Razer had managed to go and make sure Magenta's patrolling had secured the area for her competition.

For Razer, the first length of the Kras City track flew by in a blur of adrenaline. All of his concentration was fixed on merely avoiding the walls on either side of the street, which appeared all too suddenly after he dove away from the last, causing him to twist back in the opposite direction. The Northerner was not even sure what in gear he careened down the track. He had shifted through the first thousand yards until he lost the increasing pitch of the rpm's to the monotone of the engine's hum. However, before Razer knew, he was looking through squinted eyes at a wall of red and yellow; one of the sharpest turns of the track and he was speeding straight towards the barrier.

Razer's pulse stopped. By instinct alone he leaned the speeder over on its side, releasing the handle bar and tumbling off the speeder to the asphalt. He landed hard on his shoulder, rolling with the force as the speeder's hum cut out without a hand on the throttle. The speeder crashed into the red and yellow barrier with a heavy clatter, like a large toy being dropped from a high point. The only thing saving the Northerner's face from the rough pavement was his arm and elbow. He could feel bruises forming in dull aches from his shoulder and elbow down to his hip and leg. Beneath his jacket, Razer felt a few of his ribs shooting spikes of anguish through his chest; he was sure they were from being broken in the fall.

Lying on the cool concrete, Razer let the shock of his first speeder solo ebb away. Weapons or not, he learned a hard lesson not to underestimate anything small and unstably fast. Razer used his left arm, which was the less bruised of the two, to hoist himself to his feet when his nerves settled. He ached from head to tow, but pushed the pain to the back of his mind; he had been in worse wrecks during combat racing and still managed to cross the finish line. He would accept no different for a speeder. Gritting his teeth and putting on as calm a face he could, the Northerner walked with a slight limp over to where the speeder laid on its side.

"Not as easy as you thought is it?" a familiar voice caused Razer to look back to see Sheila wandering up the track towards him. She was wearing an uncanny smirk on her face that made the Northerner's blood boil. Drawling himself up to his full height with his teeth clenched, Razer tried to retain what dignity he still had by not showing pain. However, Sheila's grin only doubled into a soft chuckle as she drew closer. "Are you alright?" She asked in earnest when she saw Razer's disheveled coat.

Razer glanced down at his jacket. The red fabric was ripped at the shoulder seam and frayed from the pavement. He shrugged. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? Every race has to take a tumble now and again." He gave a little sneer in return. Razer was not going to give the Icelander the opportunity to prey on any weakness; she did not need that sort of satisfaction from him.

"Too true," Sheila dug in her pocket for a moment and pulled out a glowing green pack, "which is why they should always be prepared." She held up the eco health pack before tossing it to Razer. As the Northerner chose to break the pack over his broken ribs, she closed the distance between them.

"You always have some kind of eco on you?" Razer asked as he felt a cool tingling sensation ice over his side. Beneath his jacket, his broken ribs mended on their own accord leaving a numb line along the freshly healed bone. He took a deep inhale to test the green eco's strength and received only a frosty chill up his side rather than stabbing pains.

"Only when I think it may come in handy," Sheila was standing over the abandoned speeder, running a black finger over her pale pink lip absentmindedly as she examined the damage. Despite a badly bent front blade and a few scrapes, the craft was fin to her relief. She could easily repair the speeder herself if it came down to money. "Listen," Sheila looked up at Razer, her sapphire eyes bright with inspiration. "How about I show you the ropes on this thing," the Icelander pulled the bike upright with little effort. "Then you can drop me off at the top of the home stretch so I can meet up with Magenta."

The prideful Northerner had been prepared to shoot down Sheila's offer for his own sake, but the words caught on the tip of this tongue. He did not want Erol seeing him being taught by a woman. However, Sheila must have understood his dilemma of proving himself while maintaining his self-esteem, and offered to be dropped off before he crossed the finish line. Razer also knew another run on the speeder along would only end in more broken bones. "Fine," he said when no excuse came to his mind and willingly walked over to remount the speeder.

Sheila waited with and hand on her hip as Razer started the engine and positioned himself on the controls. Then, resting a steadying hand on the Northerner's shoulder, she straddled the back of the bike and reached around his broad shoulder to lay her fingerless gloves over his yellow gauntlets. Her chin fitted in the niche above his shoulder, cheek lightly brushing his ear. As Sheila lifted her boot to set it beside Razer's on the peg, she felt the man tense slightly with the closeness of their bodies, her torso pressing flat against his back. "Relax," she said with a quiet giggle. "I know you're not into women…" She had to grin as Razer shot her a dirty glare over his shoulder, but nonetheless relaxed to let her put her final foot on the peg.

"Alright, ready?" Sheila asked and Razer's knuckles tightened on the throttle. "Easy, be gentle with her at first." Razer's eyes flicked to Sheila's lowed voice; it betrayed her passion for having such a cold exterior. Sighing a little with impatience, he loosened his muscles enough to feel Sheila's body against his, wondering at how at ease she was laying her body along the lines of his own until he could hardly tell were they were two separate individuals. Razer had expected the uncomfortable push against his back that came with any woman's chest, but to his surprise, he could not distinguish the Icelander's breasts from the rest of her torso. The fact was unusual compared to the buxom women he raced against and was a welcomed relief from that distraction.

By the beginning of the home stretch which was the winding bridge to the finish line, Razer was able to shift through all of the gears while remaining in control of the speeder. He barely noticed Sheila's hands guiding his movements through the rhythm until she let go. Retreating back to grip her arms around Razer's waist, she let him have full control of driving. Her actions, however, set the Northerner's mind on edge. He half expected Sheila to make some sort of advance on him while he was venerable, but it never came. Before he realized, he was drawling to a halt beside Magenta's cruiser, where the Marauder sat chattering away on a communicator in her hand.

"Thanks for the lift, fly boy," Sheila gave a friendly pat on the Northerner's shoulder for a job well done and hopped off. "Get off that communicator and get back to work Magenta!" The Icelander barked turning on her friend. Without a second thought, Magenta snapped the link shut and scrambled out of the cruiser. Sheila looked back over her shoulder with her hands placed with authority on her waist. "You still here?" She asked to Razer, who was looking at her with a confused expression.

Sheila's attitude snapped Razer out of his daze. The woman was a complete puzzle, one moment she was a complete tease and the next she was totally uninterested in him. A flare of annoyance burnt out his thoughts for the Icelander and Razer shot the woman a final threatening glare prior to taking off down the home stretch to where Erol and Cyan waited.

A feeling of self-fulfillment washed over Razer as he crossed over the finish line and managed to pull a U-turn back to Erol in a single fluid motion. The Northerner gazed at the brooding commander with a confident smirk. Erol, however, only stared silently back at Razer, amber eyes narrowed skeptically. Raising an orange eyebrow, he glanced to the track monitor, which replayed Sheila teaching Razer to drive and the time of twenty three minutes and nineteen seconds. The Northerner gave a low growl and rounded the speeder back to the start line for another lap.

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**A/N: **Finally, finished this chapter... If you ask me its time to go back and check of a bit more of Jak. Looking forward for the POV change in the next chapter as Jak and Erol face off for a little unofficial speeder racing. Needed to take a little more time for this chapter just because sometimes u get tired of the same thing... but i think now im rested and read for another run at it. Horray for Jak! 


	15. The Business of Gambling

**Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter Series belongs to Naughty Dog **

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**Chapter 15: The Business of Gambling**

"And just where do you think you're going?" Keira asked as she came up behind Jak in the mirror. She had walked through his open apartment door to see him fixing his racing jacket and armor in the reflection. Keira noticed throughout the day Jak's mood had improved significantly from his old reclusive, brooding nature to his new more confident and laid-back self.

"Figured I'd take my old speeder out for a spin around the city," Jak answered casually, spinning around to bring Keira under his arm. He had been practicing the line all day in his head until he convinced even himself that the night on the town was a harmless joyride instead of an illegal competition. "I just wanted to get some fresh air before the big race tomorrow. Clean my head of all those fume from the garage and all." He gave his girlfriend a reassuring squeeze and a warm smile.

Keira though for a moment and looked up into Jak's blue eyes shining down at hers. "Alright," she smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist for a good-night hug. "Just don't stay out to late, okay?" The mechanic rested her chin on Jak's chest and gazed innocently up at him with big green eyes.

"I'll try not to," Jak kissed Keira affectionately on the lips, cupping her face with his free hand before releasing her. "Sleep good." He gave her one last look, walking out the door and down the hall. Letting out a small sight of relief as he descended to the garage, Jak was glad Keira believed him so easily. Plus, he had avoided dead locking himself into any unwanted curfews through her promises.

"Pst! Jak! Wait up!" Daxter's raspy voice echoed from the hallway behind Jak, making the blonde turn to see his furry companion scampering out of the shadows to him. "Okay," the Ottsel whispered once he climbed up on Jak's shoulder. "Let's get the hell outta here before Tess knows I'm gone." With that Daxter craned his neck as if expecting his mate to pop out at any second at the pair took the last few steps into the garage.

From down the dim lit hanger came the sounds of an engine firing and wheels peeling out of a lift. The demolition duo glanced towards the disturbance just in time to see Sig's Howler racing out into the night. "Maybe he's going out for a bit of fresh air too, eh?" Daxter's blue eyes were still fixed on the place the racer vanished from sight. "Cept not to the same place, right Jak?" He turned back to Jak, hopping the answer was yes; the Ottsel preferred not to be busted and executed by Rayn so early in the season.

"As far as I know, yeah," Jak watched the empty space as well, suspicious of Sig's return as he removed his old Haven City NYFE speeder from its confines behind his lift. "Besides, we can trust Sig. He never double-crossed us before…" Jak walked the bike into the open and prepared for their departure.

"Allow me to clue you in on something, buddy." Daxter begin in his enlightened tone. "In this life, I've learned that anything is possible-AH!" The Ottsel was cut off by Jak, who had ignored him for lowering his racing goggles. Daxter was forced to cling to Jak's shoulder pad to prevent him from flying off the speeder as they sped out of the garage and into the city.

Jak quickly fell back into the rhythm of the speeder like being reunited with an old friend; speeder racing was his roots. With each new bend in the road, he became more and more daring, braking later, turning harder and speeding away even faster than when he entered the turn. At his neck, Dater's paws and tail tightened, driving Jak's lust for danger with grim delight. Eventually the light of the buildings were merely streaks of starlight and the cool ocean breeze burnt his cheeks. Jak slowed only when he saw water break ahead from the streets, turning out of the narrow alleys of Kras City and onto the wide racing circuit.

Winding down the long bridge to the start line, an unusual sight met Jak's eyes. A throng of colorful and exotic looking racers massed across the track, each with a uniquely customized speeder that matched their persona. Jak hovered his way into the crowd, parting it with the front of his blade. Both men and women drew away giving him suspicious stars at the new comer, many of them adorned with piercings and tattoos of the rebellious youth they lived. When Jak reached the front line, he pulled off his goggles to give Daxter a devious grin. They were with their own kind; young and reckless.

"Prepared to die, Eco Freak?" The all too familiar figure of Erol in his yellow and navy racing suit emerged from the multicolored mass, eyes on fire at the sight of Jak. His fists were clenched with the cold rage that surged through his veins as he stalked toward his nemesis. "Don't get too comfortable here. I can assure you, your first night will be your last." The commander hissed, leaning down inches away to glare into the blonde's face. "I relish the thought of defeating you on a real track, this time for good."

"Don't plan on it." Jak snarled right back with a dark growl. He was not intimidated by Erol's stare down and returned it with his own hostility. The commander was only trying to get under his skin and Jak refused to let that happen.

"Don't be thinking too hard, robo-boy," Daxter piped on Jak's shoulder, "You may blow a gasket under all that make-up of yours." His waved his paws indicating Erol's face.

Erol shot a dirty snarl of disgust at Daxter and rounded on his heavy heel back down the line of speeders. Jak watched him as he settled himself on a black, barbed speeder and realized that it was not his own speeder Erol was driving but Sheila's. When the commander's stare remained focused in front of him, poised for the start of the race, Jak settled back on his seat to gaze around at the competition.

On his left, a flamboyant yellow speeder was surrounded by a small, giggling group of women who were huddling around a golden haired man. His chisled face bore a wide, platinum smile that reminded Jak of G. T. Blitz, otherwise known as Mizo, as he chatted to a slick gentleman in black with a pale face and high cheek bones. To Jak's right, a thin lad gave off a spectrum of green shades as he lounged on a slim, forest speeder, speaking lightly with a fiery woman in red, who was in the arms of her reserved blue boyfriend.

"Jak!" Another voice called Jak's attention to the tall, thin frame of Sheila striding down the start line to him. "Hey," she beamed happily as she came up beside him; it was the first time Jak had seen her smile and it took away from her mystic. "Don't mind Erol." She waved off in the general direction of the commander over her shoulder. "We're all freaks her, some people are just in denial."

"I couldn't have put it better myself, sister," Daxter remarked. He was distracted, however, by the bubbling bunch of girls next to them and was craning his head around Jak's to get a better view.

Sheila raised a brow at the Ottsel and turned back to Jak. "Listen, I need you to come with me for a moment so we can get you in the grid for the race; wouldn't want you winning nothing would we?" She smiled and extended an arm ahead for Jak to wak with her to the side of the track.

"Sure," Jak stood and joined Sheila as Daxter hopped off his shoulder to the pavement. "Dax, stay here and watch the speeder, would ya?" Jak asked back while Sheila led the way in front of him.

"No problem, partner," Daxter saluted and leaped up onto the seat of the speeder, slicking back his ears. Striking a handsome pose by leaning on the steering column, he called to the girls surrounding the yellow speeder in his debonair voice. "Hey ladies, why don't you ditch Golden Boy there and take a walk on the wild side with Orange Lightning?"

"So Jak," Sheila began as they walked toward a low makeshift stage with chairs and tables, which had been set up on the inside edge of the track earlier that evening. "Let me explain to you how this operation works. With every race, each driver makes a deposit into one of my accounts to race, as well as any side bets for lap positions and winners along with the other high rollers here. After the racer, the sums are calculated and directly deposited into your account via computer. That way we don't have any substantial hard cash that could be look very bad for some of my clients." Sheila stepped up onto the platform and skirted the spectators and gamblers to a table where Cyan had set up her computer.

"Can the transactions be traced?" Jak took the seat opposite Cyan's screen as Sheila sat between them. Glancing around the stage, he saw a new rainbow of neon and black light shades from the lamps shining up from below the platform. Jak's focus caught on a deep red jacket through the bodies only to see Razer lounging in a chair, cigarette in hand and watching the racers take their places. Looking away, his eyes locked on Sheila, who as gazing at him skeptically after following his gaze.

"It helps when you have a variety of accounts with different banks, along with a top class hacker to wipe the histories and a couple of crooked accountants up your sleeve," Sheila's grin took on an all more sinister demeanor. "But in a city like Kras, who really cares?" She pulled the waiting computer from Cyan and offered it to Jak. "I need your deposit and account number. My advice is the higher you bet, the more you get…"

Jak cast one last apprehensive glance in the direction of Razer, who was still unaware of his presence, smoking casually with his boots on a low table. Turning back to the blue screen in front of him, Jak entered his account number and password, watching his already meager balance drop as the entry fee was deducted. A grid of racers and laps appeared once the transaction finished and with a cocky smirk, Jak placed a bet on himself to win with Erol coming in second. "Finished…" Jak said as he wagered the remains of his savings on the bet.

"Excellent," Sheila rose from the table. "Now we can get this show on the road." She hopped off the stage and out into the center of the track beneath the start banner as Jak headed back to Daxter and his speeder. "Alright, ladies and gents; first off I'd like to thank everyone for coming out this evening, along with your generous deposits." Sheila chuckled with the numerous choruses of cynical groans. "I hope you've all placed your bets well and now that our new racer, Jak, has finally decided to show up, we can begin." A dozen eyes flicked to the blonde in the front row and back to Sheila. "Tonight's race will be an old school circuit race with four laps around the track. No weapons, no shortcuts or you'll be disqualified. Other than that, may the best racer win!" Wasting no time, Sheila ran out of the path of the speeders to join the spectators at the stage as the racers prepared for the countdown.

Jak replaced his racing goggles over his eyes as speeder engines howled to life around him. On his shoulder, he could feel Daxter crouching low and bracing himself on his perch. Jak chanced a quick glance to his left and right to see the scores of adrenaline-thirsty drivers leaning low over their handle bars, and at the very end, Erol with his skull face mask revved Sheila's death trap of a speeder louder all the others. Above, the banner flashed red and counted down. Three, two, one, green and Jak dropped the throttle, sending him flying down the track along with a mob of reckless racers.

"Enjoying the view?" Sheila asked Razer as the speeders disappeared from sight leaving only the track monitors to for the others to watch and wait. The Icelander had noticed the Northerner gazing out of the corner of his eye at a group of girls cheering on their drivers at the screen. Pulling up a seat beside Razer, Sheila kicked up her boots alongside his. "I didn't see you place any bets on Erol to win. I'm offended."

"I only gamble with my life," Razer replied pointedly, flicking the ash off the tip of his cigarette. "I have enough money to settle comfortably back into retirement if I had the ambition to slow things down, until then racing is all I need. Besides, Erol already betted on himself to win." Razer took a long drag on the filter, noting Sheila's agreeing nod as they both sat back to watch the race.

Out on the track, Jak easily stayed ahead of the pack with the few other elite racers, including the golden, green, and black racers as well as Erol. More than once, Jak was faced with locking speeders and trading punches with the black racer, who eventually was sent into the ocean by a swift elbow to the jaw. By the third lap, Jak replaced the golden driver for first. Behind him a loud explosion made the blonde look over his shoulder to see Erol speeding past a burning green speeder, hand still raised from the fatal blow.

The commander's pulse coursed with the engine of the speeder as he closed the gap between Jak, crossing the start line for the fourth and final lap. His teeth were brandished under his mask; eyes burning for Jak's destruction. The neon blonde and orange blur were growing closer and closer with each second, driving Erol to push Sheila's speeder to the very limits of its power. His time came soon enough when he rounded the last tight bend inside the Kras track and headed towards the home stretch on the bay of the city. Every fiber of his body was tensed with pure hatred and with one powerful out lash, Erol backhanded his fist into Jak's arm.

Jak's left hand instinctively seized his arm from the bolt of anguish that shot up through it. The tremors of Erol ramming against his speeder rattled his senses to throttle the bike even faster. Jak chanced a side glance to his right only to find Erol directly beside him, neck and neck as they raced down the stretch, and Daxter poised on his shoulder waiting to attack the commander.

Seeing the final bend ahead of him and the bay beyond, Erol gripped the handlebars with all his strength and slammed it over into Jak's speeder. The commander could taste victory on his tongue. He made to pull away from the second attack, never letting the throttle falter under his grip, but his plan failed. Sheila's barbed spikes had caught on Jak's speeder, attaching Erol shoulder to shoulder with his enemy. No matter, Erol released his left fist for another strike.

His blow never made contact though. In a blink of an eye, Daxter's orange paws grabbed the commander's face mask and flung it back on his forehead. The blast of cold night air blinded the commander as they made the last turn. He never saw, but only felt a thick, furry tail striking him square in the nose. Screaming in fury, Erol wrenched the speeder away from Jak's and slammed down his mask only to see Jak cross the finish line first through his red lenses. "No!" The commander cried out in rage as he crossed the line second, snapping the speeder so hard around that the front blade rose threateningly in the air.

"We did it!" Daxter cheered as Jak backtracked to the finish line, parking at the far end of the stage away from the crowd of fans reuniting with their drivers. "Did you see me Jak? I taught that old KG scum a lesson or two, Orange Lightning style!" The Ottsel bounced from his perch to the edge of the platform, basking in his own glory as Jak beamed triumphantly, dismounting the speeder.

"Now that's some mighty fine speeder work if you ask me," Jak rounded to see Sig walking over to them with the purple bodyguard Magenta under his arm. "I should have put a last minute bet for you to win but I was just a little distracted." The Wastelander chuckled and tweaked Magenta's chin, causing her to squeak and giggle under his arm. "I do love ladies with some meat on their boned!" He brimmed with happiness that made his green eye twinkle in the dusk.

"Sig?" Jak had to let out a disbelieving laugh as his old friend offered a congratulatory handshake, which the blonde took with equal joy. "I saw you leave the garage, but I didn't think-" Jak's brain was momentarily stunned by seeing Sig with a woman, let alone a Marauder. He always saw the Spargus king as an independent soul, but like Daxter said 'anything is possible'. Perhaps Sig had set aside Magenta's Icelandic descent with both of them being on neutral ground in Kras City.

"FREAK!" Erol's hair raising scream broke the blissful meeting as Sig and Magenta stepped aside to give Jak full view of the commander stormed towards him. The air around Erol seemed to be static with uncontrolled wrath, clenching his entire being. "You'll pay for this!" His rage exploded as he charged straight for Jak, face contorted in loathing.

Bodies collided and Erol fell like a rock down to the pavement. Magenta had reacted first. With a single motion, she stepped away from Sig and caught her muscled arm in the commander's chest, dropping him with his own force. For a moment, the two remained frozen in the aftershock; Magenta with her arm stretched outward and Erol sprawled on the concrete, gasping for air.

"Erol!" The shout came from Razer, prying every bystander's wide eye from Magenta and Erol to see the Northerner running up followed closely by Sheila. Taking advantage of the struggling commander, Razer locked his arms around Erol's and dragged the gasping redhead to his feet an away from the group. "Let it go!" Razer hissed in Erol's ear through gritted teeth as the man fought against him to get to Jak. "Don't ruin everything we're trying to do!" The commander subsided in Razer's grasp, standing still on his own accord. The Northerner released Erol and shot a filthy glare at Jak and his crew before taking off after Erol, who stalked back into the crowd.

"Damn!" Sig finally said, breaking the quiet. He was staring open jawed at Magenta, who withdrew to fold her hands in front of her with a small embarrassed smile. "Now that is what I'm talking about! Come 'em cherry blossom and give daddy some suga'." Magenta eagerly ran into Sig's open arms like a little girl, planting a huge kiss on his cheek. "I'll catch you tomorrow on the track, Jak!" Sig cast a so-long wave as he walked off with Magenta once again under his arm.

"Yeah…" Jak waved blankly and shook his head out of its daze to see Sheila approaching, a smile on her lips. Jak quickly skipped over trying to process what had just occurred for a later time. Instead he answered the Icelander's firm handshake, looking questioningly at her.

"Before you say anything," Sheila cut Jak off before he could interrupt her train of thought. "I just wanted to let you know that was some of the finest racing, and betting, I've seen in a long time. You've got balls kid, and you're money's all there; I saw to it myself." She motioned casually to herself with a smirk. "But there's one thing I want you to have before you go." Her face sobered as she pulled out a small box of worn black velvet. "I want you to give this to Keira." She pursed her lips as she offered the box to Jak, blue eyes flickering between the blonde's face and the box.

Jak's thoughts were silenced when he saw the box in Sheila's palm. Gently taking it from her, he opened the worn velvet to reveal a sparkling ring, set with a single pure crystal that glowed with many colors in the dark and was bordered by two smaller, deep purple gems. "Where did you…" Jak's voice trailed away. He knew exactly what the jewels were and how rare both light and dark eco crystals were.

"It doesn't matter," Sheila shook her head vigorously and waved off the question. Her eyes were still gazing at the white gold ring with a solemn expression. "But you have to do one thing for me when you give it to her." Both Sheila and Jak looked up to each other; Jak nodding slightly to answer Sheila's request. "Make it romantic." Sheila stated with all her heart born on that single request as she passes the key to a new life to Jak.

"I will," Jak set his jaw and grasped the tiny box in his hand tightly, feeling the smoothed fabric on his fingertips. "Thank you." Something inside Jak's heart went out to the older woman. Regardless of her allegiances and ruthless, cold nature, Jak understood there was good buried deep inside her by a hard life.

Sheila cleared her throat and nodded, biting her upper lip as she composed herself back to her normal headstrong stature. "Alright," she patted Jak on the shoulder, "now get the hell outta my sight before the cops show up and arrest us both." She turned back to her crew disassembling the stage with her head held high. Jak put the velvet box in his jacket as he and Daxter mounted the speeder and took off into the city. Next to his beating heart, Jak could feel the box pressing into his chest with every purposed filled breath, kindling a new drive to be the best for Keira and live up to Sheila's request.

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**A/N: **I absolutely adore this chapter on so many levels is hard to sum it all up! Please drop a review and tell me what you think! 


	16. Going Down in Flames

Author's Note: Once again I do not own the Jak series or any of its characters. This has been a long time coming... It's amazing what happens when life gets in the way. I'm happy to be back in this long lost fic that has so much potential still

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Chapter 16: Going Down in Flames**

"The Dethdrome, a track on which legends are born and destroyed. Today some of the finest drivers Kras City has ever seen will test their metal on this very pavement, and I, Pecker, will be here to bring you every second of explosive action, right here on my show!" The multicolored moncaw sat on his news perch above the Dethdrome track in the morning rays, cameras floating about him, broadcasting to thousands of viewers.

"But before I bring you live coverage of today's Red Eco Cup Qualifier, I'd like to take a moment and shed some light on a growing concern amongst the racing community. Illegal speeder racing, a question that has many drivers and fans wondering about the future of combat racing. Is this merely a group of underground rebels making a statement or will speeder racing really take roots into the Kras City way of life? To answer these questions, I have called upon two of combat racing's finest members; the head of the racing committee, Rayn, and former Kras City champion, Razer." The camera angle widened to include Pecker and his guests.

"So, Rayn, what is your opinion on speeder racing? Should it be given a chance?" The camera zoomed to include only Pecker and Rayn.

"Absolutely not," the blue-haired business woman was inflamed under her calm exterior as she looked from host to camera. "It undermines everything combat racing has come to establish in this city. Their illegal raves deface our well maintained tracks and eco systems while promoting anarchy through unregistered gambling. If speeder racing were to be legalized there would be an explosion of violence on the streets along with reckless racing occurring unchecked. No, allowing speeder racing to become an official sport would only result in the extinction of combat racing as a whole. It is my opinion that speeder racing should remain where it belongs, in Haven City with the NYFE."

"Wow, thank you Rayn that was certainly a –SQUAWK- an enlightening sentiment. Well, now that we know the opinions of our beloved co-host and racing commissioner, let's see what a professional racer says about the encroaching competition. Razer?"

"Thank you, Pecker," Razer began much more calmly than Rayn once the camera panned over to his raven-haired head. "Like you said, as a veteran driver and former champion, I stand firmly by combat racing as the superior sport. However, as a racer, I cannot deny the competitive nature of speeder racing, which makes any type of racing appealing. I would be lying if I said that speeder racing does not have equal potential for being as dangerous as combat racing. Who knows, speeder racing could be a new division in Kras City racing, but I should never think it could replace combat racing entirely. At heart, a true racer does not mind new competition."

"Well there you have it folks. Two very different opinions from the two of the biggest names in Kras City combat racing. Should speeder racing become legal and a newfound sport in Kras or should it remained outlawed and its supports snuffed out? Squawk! Not literally snuffed, mind you… I'll leave you, the viewers to decide. I'm your host Pecker, and we'll be returning shortly to give you the full coverage of today's race here at the Dethdrome!"

"Traitor," Rayn spat at Razer once the broadcast ended. "I had hoped you of all people would have understood what I am trying to preserve here. You call yourself a combat racer; you're no better than those lowlife streetrats trying to ruin this sport." The two walked briskly side by side as they entered into the garage hanger of the Dethdrome's pits.

"You're right," Razer remarked coolly, "I do understand what you're trying to preserve... every… last… cent of it. As for myself, I have nothing to lose if a few roughens want to start up their own little division. Really Rayn, in this day and age, being so closed minded could be… hazardous for ones well being."

Rayn was livid with insult. "I can't believe what I'm hearing! Have you lost all sense of loyalty to the sport that made you famous? It's disgusting how you can just turn your back on an entire lifetime of racing for something with no future!"

Razer chuckled. "Actually, what's truly disgusting is that fact you cannot see the future of this sport resulting in everyone turning their back on you…" He simpered devilishly as he passed his lackeys preparing their racers.

"I have no idea what you are talking about!" Rayn was beside herself with Razer's presumptuous attitude. Despite the mishap of Jak's crew discovering her father's con to poison them into racing the previous season, Rayn was certain her friends were completely on her this season, and competing of their own free will. As she looked at the drivers making last minute adjustments, she kept her clipboard pressed tightly to her chest, jaw set and chin high.

"Oh really," Razer caught an approaching glint of yellow and green hair. "Jak," he called, "my congratulations on last night at the races. Perhaps you should have stuck with speeder racing in Haven City with the NYFE. You would've made a fine living out of it…"

"Speeder racing is in my bluh-" Jak's mouth went numb when he turned from beneath the hood of his borrowed Dragonfly to see not only Razer but a very outraged Rayn glaring at him wide-eyed and fuming. "Rayn… I didn't…"

"Didn't what!"

Jak's heart stopped like a gunshot had been fired into his chest. In horror he spun to seek Keira standing behind him, hands planted angrily on her hips, body steaming with rage. Suddenly the blonde found himself pinned to the Dragonfly between two very vicious looking ladies.

"Think?" Keira asked only decibels away from yelling. "You told me you were going out for some 'fresh air' to 'clear' your head! I thought you were through with all this! Going behind my back! Hiding what you're doing from me! Lying to me! You know how I hate you sneaking around in this Underworld BULLSHIT!" Keira paused, panting, a look of repulsion on her face. " And now you're going out to be do ILLEGAL speeder racing with an Icelandic SLUT?" Keira scowled, clenching her fists in an attempt not to pummel the man of her dreams. With a couple deep breaths, she stalked straight past Jak out of the garage and into the race field.

"Keira wait!" Jak reached out and took a step to follow but his courage was lost to the overwhelming feeling of defeat that struck in his chest like a ton of bricks. "I… I can explain…" His voice failed to a breathless whisper as he stared, gaping at Keira's receeding back. All around him the world seemed to be crashing down as his hopes vanished to nothing. With a blank stare his head lowered slightly to Rayn, who was still glaring at him. "I needed the money…" His voice was distant.

"Well I hope, Sheila paid you well, because after this race you're going to need a new racer. I may not be able to ban you from combat racing, but I can sure as hell take MY racer back!" Rayn spun on her spiked heel and took off towards the official's booth.

Razer had a delighted grin on his lips. "Well Jak," he patted the stunned blonde on the shoulder, "good luck with today's race…" He chuckled. "My work here is done, suppose I best put the final touches on the ol' Howler before we get started, right? Right, I'll see you around, Jakkie…" Razer sauntered away chuckling, lighting a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

"Jak? Where are ya buddy?" Daxter called from behind the Dragonfly. "I saw Keira and Rayn stalking off. Boy did they look pissed. What'd Razer do to make them so angry?" He rounded the back wheel. "Jak? Why ya sitting on the ground like that? You're… You're making me nervous buddy. We got a race to win in a few minutes. Hey! Sweet ring there man! That for Keira? That'll make her perk right up!" The fuzzy ball bounced before an apathetic Jak, who merely continued to stare at Sheila's ring.

"No it won't Dax," Jak snapped the lid shut on the engagement ring. "She hates me… They both do…"

"Who?" Daxter asked oblivious as always.

"Keira and Rayn… They found out Dax… I let it slip out… Razer… He tricked me into admitting about last night and they heard. Keira won't ever talk to me again… And now Rayn's taking back her car. They both wanna see me dead… What am I gonna do Dax?" Jak looked at his best friend utterly lost and heartbroken over the thought Keira would never marry him after this.

Daxter rested a firm paw on Jak's shoulder as the rally horn for the starting lineup sounded. "We're gonna race, and we're gonna make those bitches regret even glaring at ya by smoking the competition, starting with that slimy prick Razer first. Now what'd ya say partner?"

Jak stood up to his full height, placing Daxter on his shoulder. "Let's kick some tailpipe…" Jak swung himself up into his racer and peeled out of the garage to the start line.

"Welcome back race fans!" Pecker flashed across every television screen and hologram. "To the live coverage of the Red Eco Cup Qualifier! Here at one of the deadliest, most terrifying, fastest tracks in combat racing… the Dethdrome! The racers are taking their positions at the starting line and the competition is looking fierce. With Jak, Razer, Erol and Sheila all with a shot at the Red Eco Cup. Let's take it trackside for a closer look before the green.

"Razer, with the last win at the Forbidden Jungle is sitting pretty on the pole, and I do mean pretty. This guy preens himself more than a love bird in mating season… Next is Sheila, looking cool and collected in her blue Dragonfly. Seems like she's warming up to the camera with a little wave. Don't ruffle your feathers gents, I still say she's got a heart of ice. Squawk! In third, Erol; I don't know which has a more charming disposition, him or the mask. And finishing off the front line, our hero, Jak! Who is looking a little less than his usual confident self. Actually, he's looking down-right murderous today. Lazy off the dark eco, all I have to say on that subject…

"But I do have plenty to say on the race!" The cameras readied their focus on the rumbling engines. "Counting down in three… Two… One!

"Jak! Off with a quick start to take the lead. I can smell the burnt rubber. Squawk, phewy! Erol and Sheila starting things off with a cat fight for second place, and Razer falling quickly back in the pack to fourth; I think the peacock may have a new strategy going: let the leaders shoot themselves out of the sky. Personally, I'd rather see his tail feathers plucked first. Ah well, a lot can happen in two laps. Rounding out the field we have Sig and Cutter. Sig quickly passing Razer. Ow! And he takes a pair of missiles up the tailpipe! We're in this for the long haul folks!"

By the back half of the second lap, the leading pack had become so tight that Sheila lead by a mere bumper while Razer tailed her side-by-side with Erol. To her right, Jak's Dragonfly was edging past them all towards the final turbo-boosted home stretch. "Sorry boys," Sheila sighed, setting her jaw and casting a final glance in the rear view mirror at the battling Razer and Erol. "It's just business…" With a flip of a switch, a blast of blue eco turbos mingled with an explosion of flames from a red eco mine.

"Finished!" Pecker's voice screamed over the megaphones. "Sheila winning by a beak with Jak in second! What an upset! An explosive ending to the Red Eco Cup Qualifier! Razer finished third pulling through the fiery blast. It's looking like Erol's Road Bladed took the full force of the landmine. I don't see anything left of the car but its frame in those flames. Squawk! A solemn day here at the Dethdrome as Cutter and Sig come in fourth and fifth. I don't know about you out there but I believe this is the end for our Haven City speeder champ… Ark! Word is coming in now from the wreckage, the remains are currently unstable due to dark eco and will be quarantined to allow the eco to dissipate. They are reporting no signs of life. A dark day for the famed Erol, his body will be recovered as soon as the eco levels return to a stable level and deemed safe for approach. Ark! This is Pecker signing off from the Dethdrome, which has once again proven its title as the deadliest track in combat racing…"

With that the camera light shut off as the track began to clear, leaving the crackling remains of the yellow Road Blade to smolder overnight. Even after the reporters and cameras had finished their interviews, Sheila remained leaning against the side of the Dragonfly watching the purple-tinged flames slowly crackle. A sickened, dark expression was on her face as she stood with her arms crossed, blocking out the world.

"I've blown a lot of partners up in my day but I don't think I've ever seen an expression like that come from just a business agreement…" Razer wandered up to Sheila's racer to rest against its quarter panel. "My intellect is telling me you two were more than just 'old rivals'…."

Sheila's countenance softened to merely dismal. "We were a lot of things to each other once…" She stated quietly, bitterness lacing her words. "That was in another lifetime." She straightened from her perch against her Dragonfly and sauntered towards the smoldering lavender flames, forgoing the caution-taped quarantine perimeter.

"What are you doing?" Razer called after her to the edge of the yellow and orange, makeshift fence. "The dark eco radiation can kill you." The last thing he wanted was to lose another partner before he could figure out the dirty secrets Sheila and Erol had been hiding from him about their past; not to mention he'd be one lone man against the Jak race crew.

"Oh please… Like I'm scared of some dark eco…" Sheila scoffed, tossing a disregarding wave and glance over her shoulder to see Razer's confused face staring at her. The Northerner look positively horrified to see her skin take on a periwinkle tinge, deepening to a twilight hue while her fingernails grew black, long and sharp, eyes glazing over black.

By the time she reached the remaining roll cage of the Road Blade, the flames had all but died to embers of oil and glowing eco pools. Sheila climbed over the wreckage carefully. She could feel the dark eco seeping into her body; its energy crawled over her skin like the feeling of thousands of biting ants. Her form was changing but she did not know how far she could push her body before the damage would become irreversible to her cells. Even the hull of the racer cracked occasionally with a bolt of dark energy.

Safely behind the caution tape, Razer waited anxiously as Sheila's warped figure disappeared amidst the twisted metal until the silence was broken by a gruff shout. "Razer! Get your Howler!" The Northerner's pulse spiked and he sprinted to pull his car up to the quarantine line. From his driver's seat, he watched Sheila's stooped figure emerge from the metal holding the charred body of Erol.

Sheila's skin was a deep indigo, her eyes were jet black rimed with crimson and spiked horns protruded on either side above her brows as she lumbered heavily on deformed legs and clawed feet, which had ripped through her thick combat boots. Clutching the roll cage with a clawed hand, she pulled herself and Erol onto the back of the Howler. "Drive…" She growled through clenched fangs as Razer stared terrified at the Icelander and the blackened body she curled tightly to her chest as they radiated dark eco.


End file.
